RESISTANCE IS FUTILE
by DeMoy
Summary: Re-edited version of the erotic account of Data's capture by the Borg Queen, with a psychological tone seen from his view. Incl. serious clashes between him & Picard, who abandoned him & the rogue mission. Contains mild sex & moderate torture references.
1. Chapter 0 The Title & Teaser

_**RESISTANCE IS FUTILE**_

By DeMoy

Presenting the complete tale _Resistance Is Futile_, set behind the scenes of the Borg Queen's encounter with Commander Data during her invasion of the _USS Enterprise,_ from the second he was abducted during their initial battle with the Borg drones, this is an erotic account of their, 'First Contact'. It includes the complete movie canon scenes between them, to weave into the fanon sequences. This reedited and extended version features a sombre ego clash between Data and Picard following his prolonged captivity after Data had to dispose of her, and is based on logical conclusions what must have happened after the carnage as seen from Data's perspective, witnessed by the returned core crew – Or Data's concerned friends.

But it is all the more a very detailed introspective narrative concentrating on his physical and ever increasing mental struggles to stay ahead of himself, telling of his restricting duties as respected Starfleet officer, and diminishing personal wishes – His intimate thoughts and inherent conflicts of his awakened desires, and the inevitable multifaceted process leading him to his eventually more rational actions. So to end his initially reprehensive captivity, ensuing crisis of his beleaguered conscience, and subsequent utter loss of faith, leaving him to an altogether different state of mind by the tragic conclusion.

And the story delves right into the Borg mind of the Queen herself, her very own thoughts concerning her very intent to see the past a Borg inhabited past forever. Her true want for him to join her, and witnesses their extended power play of unchained bodies and haunted souls, from which only one stronger intellect can ever emerge alive and victorious. But would he be still the same following his unprecedented ordeal?

Now, if you can't deal with seeing Data asserting himself or lash out in his pain for once, don't even bother reading this. Picard is most certainly not the hero here. Original rated-13 version.

All rights to the characters are owned by Paramount. Copyright 1997. Reedited 2008.

_"Star Trek® and all associated symbols and characters are registered trademarks of CBS/Paramount Pictures. The use of anything related to "Star Trek" is not intended to infringe upon the rights of CBS/Paramount Pictures."_

2


	2. Chapter 1 The Fight & Capture

The Fight & Capture--------------------------------------------------

The moment Commander Data falls to the ground, toppled off his feet by some strong hands grabbing for his ankles from out of nowhere, he instantly gets dragged into Engineering opening unnoticed behind him like an abyss. Leaving a surprised gasp behind calling out for his Captain all reflexively with a noticeably plaintive undertone, Picard meets his desperate glare, nearly darting after him as he shouts for his Second Officer in absolute horror seeing him being snatched right from under his very nose within seconds, vanishing out of sight with the hatch door slamming shut, and Data is captured in an unexpected instant.

Inside Engineering four other Borg drones waiting, they instantly start attacking him as he struggles to get to his feet. Violently kicking the one who pulled him inside off his tight grasp by ramming his boots into his chest, catapulting him straight into the nearest corner, Data simultaneous strikes into his grotesque face with his left elbow. Coiling up fast, ducking and diving away from their immediate attempts to snatch after him with their lethally sharp metal claws, he evades them in turn in infallible and reactively defensive action, with the sure prance and elegant poise of a dangerous feline, at his utterly fine-tuned movements and keenest awareness of a most refined combatant, taking them out one after the other with powerful strikes and precise evasion tactics.

But suddenly yet more start swarming him, emerging from the dark shadows all around, and threaten to simply overwhelm his if great power of merely one against a by then full dozen. Needing to switch to go for them instead and into full attack mode, as he just had done mere moments before to eliminate successfully some of them right out there already, snapping their necks and hurling them about with deadly ease, two more suddenly manage to headlock him in the violently driven battle soon. As he is eventually fighting in vain to break free from four already, and all his powerful strength and speedy moves are immediately countered by too many arms, simply crushing his every finally failing efforts swiftly with brute force, they are pouncing on his every limb to immobilise him rapidly.

The Borg finally succeeding to jack their talons right into his neck, after their relentless assault at his most unexpected a lethal resistance like a deadly swarm of killer bees, the nano probes go into action to rewrite his DNA. Yet, indeed not possessing any such, his own anti-virus program takes over instantly to eradicate them in return, by neutralising and purging them from his attacked system, which however is slowly knocking out his by then excessively overpowered neural net. As he finally begins to grow rapidly weaker and slips in clarity of thinking straight, his all but suddenly failing combat mode makes him lose all decisive control to defend himself, his increasingly affected motor functions cease, and they suddenly just let go of him, merely watching him utterly unmoved, staring at him with their laser guided Borg eyes.

Trying to touch for his combadge with trembling fingers in a last most desperate attempt to call for help, all of a sudden he is utterly unable to even speak up anymore. His hands cramping up like angular claws in absolute shock, his entire system matrix suddenly just crashes as if switched off for the excessive power resources it needs to purge his overloaded system. With utter terror frozen on his pallid features at the most horrible thought to end up their doomed latest victim, he instantly falls unconscious and slams to the ground like a rock, face-up by their many cyborg feet.

Having tried his utmost best and even to call for help, the Borg are not at all interested in his fate however, standing for another moment, before they split as someone joins them. With a petit woman appearing suddenly, it is indeed the powerful Borg Queen herself having watched his short if fierce fight with great delight. Looking down on him with her glinting quicksilver eyes running over his motionless shape, she gestures them to bring him over to the table. The initial four drones gathering him up quickly like pallbearers, they place him onto the apparatus, while the rest gather their fallen comrades, and then return to their former occupation as if nothing had happened utterly unmoved. The Queen following them in curious wonder, they leave her to her unconscious captive.

Peering at him curiously in circling him once, she stops by his side, and starts inspecting her unconscious quarry by slowly running her gloved fingers across his entire body, from head to boot. Like a doctor might feel for broken bones, touching his every inch in silent pleasure. Left more than puzzled at his unlike state, she feels for his golden hands, and then slowly over his opalescent face returned to its more placid features again. Coming closer to him like a lover might caress a beloved's countenance while sleeping, she leans over him with her glistening lips breathing over his closed eyes to ascertain what he is. Not a Human, not anything she has ever seen before in all her eternally regenerative life. But more and more gathering his obscure origins as he merely lies there as if asleep, Data is utterly oblivious of his so exposed and wholly vulnerable state.

Running her slim fingers through his slightly tousled hair, not only to neaten it down, but for her fingertips slowly to probe his every millimetre of his head, she presses on one part on the right side of his skull. The hair parting to open up for one the access panels to appear, the red and green exposed phase lights are blinking in a steady sequence. Scrutinising them closer, she seems unable to make much more sense of it, despite having already realised what exactly he is by then.

A highly intriguing cybernetic lifeform, one of the most advanced kinds ever constructed. Smiling to herself more than delighted, she finally understands who he is besides, and ascertains him to the one man who had taken Locutus from her. So achieved while he was linked to Picard's own Borg implants, and Data had accessed their collective Borg hive mind to send them to literal sleep, before they simply self-destructed, she indeed had not found amusing at all then, either way.

Closing up the skull cap neatly by running her hand over it not even touching it, she brushes down his hair neatly back into place again. Summoning half a dozen Borg to the table by mere thought, they promptly post themselves around it. As she starts to circle it again in reiterating her titillated thoughts, running her slim fingers along Data's outer arms and legs again almost lovingly while doing so, she whispers to herself audibly enough and well amused by now, to be heard through all the faint buzzing electronic Engineering sounds.

"You're the one who took Locutus from me all these years back," she purrs at him not even hearing her. "I have the sum of all his own memories once released within the hive mind who knew you so well, and now I know who and what you are. You are Data, the one supreme android of Starfleet, his very Second Officer, the one who sent my Borg to sleep on his own command. Now you will be his replacement, and you shall give me what I want instead, and I will offer you what you always desired in return – 'real sensation and true emotions', Data…"

Smiling to herself more than satisfied already at Data's utterly turned fate, she caresses his calm face again and then orders the drones to undress and secure him to the large table. Following her orders swiftly and neatly, they remove his clothing and leave it by the side. Once entirely stripped of his protective attire, they commence to go to work on him to graft the ready-stripped organic skin to his near entire front, and even his intimate parts. Taken from Data's very own assimilated or killed crew, other Borg are working on in the sections of Engineering, they first remove his own bioplast skin neatly to do so, with the most sophisticated manner of surgical feat ever witnessed, exposing his striking cybernetic make to reattach the live skin over his endoskeletal structure and integrate it into his entire system.

After three hours of combined surgery to remove and attach the dead and live skin sections, they neatly dress him again, and then leave him strapped to the table face down by rotating it over by a full 180° turn. The Queen present all throughout the remarkable procedure to oversee their swift progress, she keys in some code into that table console at the back. A wide, oval metal clamshell emerging from the back to slide across and around Data's torso to secure him, it is for reasons to leave him unconscious tapping into his heuristic system directly, and expedite the healing process. After a duration of two more hours passing without any incidents, and the Queen retreats to restore herself besides most pleased with their surgical feat, the other drones go about their collective duties of assimilating and integrating more of the captured crew. Leaving Data utterly untouched, until he might wake from his forced unconsciousness soon, only the faint and soothing electronic sounds can be heard in the dimly coloured shadows.

With his full consciousness suddenly filtering back into his neural net as if switched on again, Data opening his eyes slowly, all he can see is bright light very closely in front of him. Hardly gathering the meaning of it, he is all the more puzzled about the bizarre fact that his head has fallen slightly forwards, and slowly raises it. Finally noticing in silent alarm to be restrained by some tight clamps forced around his wrists and ankles, with his arms held up at an angle, and something tight and metallic is clam-shelling around his torso, he finds this most disconcerting.

Yet he cannot feel the actual strong resistance on his back held against it, as when tied to some table-like apparatus lying down face up. After once pointlessly pulling on the unyielding fetters, it dawns on him suddenly to actually face downwards, not up at all. Staring at the deck not bulkhead of Engineering at the familiar electronic hissing sounds surrounding him, ever since he was evidently overpowered, he concludes that he still must be there, and mercifully alive at that.

With his emotion chip thankfully still deactivated, attempting to collect his greatly subdued thoughts, he so tries to scan around to assess his most undesirable situation, in grateful deliberation not to have been disassembled or assimilated so far either. The large table suddenly starting to move upwards, slowly rotating into a vertical position as if it was noticed that he has come around, he can see that he is still in Engineering. Having to resolve himself to the grim fact to be a most unwilling captive of the vicious Borg, they by then have entirely assimilated and adapted the surroundings to their very own specific needs.

As the heavy apparatus finally arrives at a full 180° angle, lying utterly level with her floor, it clicks into place, located very closely by the still active plasma coolant tank. Looking around all mechanically, he notices several Borg engaged with their collective duties. Falling into almost amused satisfaction that two drones are trying in vain to crack the ship's fractal encryption code, seeing them both positioned by some control monitor, he is more than glad that it is only sending them, 'access denied' messages. Personally having put in the code just in time to lock out the main computer, it was swift action not to get hijacked immediately. Then talking more to himself in very much an utterly convinced manner, which no less makes him use verbal contractions all of a sudden, utterly unaware that he could use them if wanted, but simply and literally hardly ever springs to his subconscious mind, he thankfully finds his voice back in full working order process besides.

"Your efforts to break the encryption codes won't be successful, nor will your attempts to assimilate me into your collective," he states tersely amused.

Nearly smirking to himself at their indeed failing repeat endeavours, and no reaction from either, he wants to look away, trying to bide his imprisoned time as best possible clearly unable to escape at this most unwelcome stage. But there some soft woman's voice suddenly can be heard echoing from overhead, and he gazes around fairly intrigued suddenly. Peering at the bizarre cybernetic Borg tube tangle hanging high above him, dangling from side to side, it looks like black jellyfish tentacles swaying in the soft waves of dark space.

Hearing her very smooth voice, sounding unlike the reverberating and threatening tones of the male hive, it is commanding and yet slickly sensual, speaking softly, seemingly closing in on him.

"Brave words – I've heard them before, from thousands of species from across thousands of worlds, long before you were created. But now, they are all Borg…"

As she emphasises the last letter of her apparent designation, Data reacts to her incorporeal voice by trying to convince himself rather than her, about her disembodied words no less grimly true, to declare his indeed dissimilar nature.

"I am unlike any lifeform you have encountered before, the codes stored in my neural net cannot be forcibly removed," he replies, still darting his curious eyes about with a slight feeling of unease creeping into his alert sensors.

Data trying to figure out where exactly she is, peering into the darker recesses, an increased sense of impending unpleasantness is settling inside his tingling neural net, while she tries to uphold that sentiment for the moment.

"You are an imperfect being created by an imperfect being, finding your weakness is only a matter of time…" she replies, realising his confident words to be true, her voice suddenly firmer and more commanding.

Suddenly another drone beside him, stepping very closely to his head, Data glances over to him fairly disinterested, and gets slightly more concerned now. Registering the stiletto-thin and sharp tools in place of a hand, attached to the drone's metal-encased forearm, Data has seen them before, not his first lethal encounter with the destructive Borg. But now they are slowly being brought closer to his very own skull, and he can only guess, what new monstrosity will happen to him next. As he can hear the very high-pitched whining sound close by his ear coming from them, the two grisly-looking tools start spinning with high speed, coming nearer and nearer to his temple, and then drill slowly right into his head. Unable to even move away or escape, the bits gradually drive into his thick bioplast skin, and mercilessly straight into his cortenide-duranium cranium.

All the while thinking that it was a very good suggestion by Picard to switch off his emotion chip, he might have wanted to experience the whole Borg battle with a true sense of emotions to taste, able to control them more or less by then. Not to get overthrown by their malfunctioning fallout again, more than grateful that it mercifully is still deactivated. Otherwise he would not only fall into instant panic again for many reasons, but mostly for the only once before experienced captivity factor, which then was of much lesser actual physical control over him, when this utterly immoral art collector Fajo had abducted him. To literally keep him as his most treasured 'toy' possession, being the only android officer in Starfleet history.

And then there is this all the more sure knowledge plaguing him now, nothing that will happen to him from hereon, will be half as harmless as years back then. Or indeed pleasant, at their notoriously brutal and utterly callous reputation, and thus the rest of the crew might hear his tortured screams, rather than the submissive hissing hum of the ever busy and utterly uninterested hive around him. Which on the other hand could actually alert his friends to his quietly Angst-ridden predicament, and that he is still alive and left unassimilated so far, where vital time could be of the very essence to attempt to rescue him.

Unable to actually establish how long he has been here already, at his odd chronometer failure to keep track of literal time, it but must have been many hours already. The drills being removed again, the drones check the console of the table, whether or not Data's own CPU system had been connected to it, attempting to breach it by that besides. Which at that point seems to have failed. Proceeding to remove the clamshell clamped over his torso, for it to automatically slide into the table plate, they seem intent on continuing with their stupendous grafting job.

6


	3. Chapter 2 The Torture & Flight

The Torture & Flight--------------------------------------------------

Data suddenly regaining consciousness again, he only then realises half dazed, to have never noticed that he must have syncopated for a second time. For the spiky drills driving into his positronic brain, having no doubt caused an auto shutdown of his neural net on the violent attack and his safety system taking over. As he finds himself still tied down on the table apparatus, still lying bound in the dark and very warm surroundings of Engineering, yet things seem different suddenly, as the clamshell restraint over his torso has been removed, and more drones surround him at his unchanged position.

His right upper arm all of a sudden encased in a large, cylindrical metal cuff, with thin tubes emanating from within, only to run back on themselves into it, he is not at all amused about either baffling specifics. Feeling fairly hazy in his once more disrupted mindset, still unable to gather data as to how long he must have been unconscious this time, he tries to stay calm as best possible. In no clear idea as to what they are attempting to do to him, he resigns himself to the fact that this seems to be the beginning of something altogether different, than just their futile attempts to force the codes from him. Or indeed devious deployment of a new, more drastic stratagem in return of their previous failures. Having moved from his suddenly repaired skull to his arm, they keep working away on it busily, while Data gazes around trying to make sense of his once more altered state.

"Are you ready?" the soft and all the more cooing voice suddenly asks again, coming from the darkness of the obscured ceiling.

Data believing himself to have been addressed, rather than the now waiting drones, still trying to lay his expectant eyes on the disembodied voice, he does not quite understand her ambiguous question.

"Who are you?" Data returns seriously interested.

Several of these slim black cyber tubes starting to snake through the air as if being directed by some invisible command, they are accompanied by some louder mechanical sound, while three are being lowered from the bulkheads. Along with the most grotesque aspect literally attached to them, in form of a truncated human torso with a full spinal column apparently of metal origin attached to it. With the female head bearing no apparent hair, as only more, smaller tubes reaching in and out the top of her shiny skull, it is of shimmering mottled white skin nearly translucent in appearance, reaching lower and lower.

"I am the Borg," she replies with utter conviction and confident pride.

Data's golden eyes straining in the humid darkness, still trying to locate the source of her ever so smooth voice, he yet can not distinguish her clearly enough either, while only the mechanical sounds grow stronger if not become overly noisy.

"That is a contradiction," he answers back quickly, logically considering what she just has uttered in response, correcting her what he believes is true. "The Borg act as a collective consciousness, there are no individuals."

There, suddenly thinking in hindsight this to be not actually true any longer to some degree, he remembers Hugh the young Borg, they had 'liberated' from the collective years ago. And the disastrous fallout effects it had on all of them, on his splitting from the hive along with others. And himself all the more so directly, at his own 'evil' brother's ability to interfere with them years later, trying to bring him into his own 'passionate' power play. By corrupting his ethical programming to the appalling extent to even act against and betray his own friends, utterly unable to fight the negative emotions instilled in him. To the point of Lore's thrilled controlling his every twisted feeling, and utterly perverted sentiments, ending up his mental junkie only begging for more harmful emotions he could not control.

Moping over this most hurtful past event, his amazed eyes finally behold the mysterious woman on her slow descent as he turns his head to see her clearer, still suspended coming closer. Gazing more than fascinated at the most uncanny display he will ever be 'misfortunate' enough to witness.

"I am the beginning – the end, the one who is many," she returns with a silken voice.

Reaching to the ground, her disconnected torso smoothly drops into the rest of a full body, a lithe and fairly petit, black-clad and markedly muscular body. Simply standing there as if waiting for her, the two tubes attached to her shoulders and the third to the back of her skull, detach and swing away. The corset folding itself over her shoulders with a slick rustling sound, several clamps grapple on to her grey-dotted skin. Giving up a mild gasp now reconnected with her complete body, she smiles her glossy red lips at Data's all the more bewildered eyes, with her gleaming and inexplicably quicksilvery eyes telling him of unquenchable want and powerful seduction.

"I am the Borg," she repeats all the more sensually intoned, slowly approaching him with sure steps and ophidian sleekness.

Data by now more than curiously touched, he is yet trying to remain as matter-of-fact cool as possible, mostly not to betray his slight uneasiness. Feeling rather peculiar being tied down and then attempting to be friendly to his fearsome captor, acknowledged to have assimilated thousands of ill-fated souls, his own former conviction about the social structure of the Borg collective is suddenly greatly upset by her very existence.

"Greetings – I am curious, do you control the Borg Collective?" Data utters his usual polite self at her all so superior smile. "Are you their leader?"

With her most uncanny beauty, and polished, mottled skin glistening in the faint light source emanating from above him, he looks at her fairly compelled.

"You imply disparity where none exists – I _am_ the Collective," she replies with an ever more seductive smile curling around her full lips.

Pondering her so sure reply, Data reconsiders his previous question, gaining in the idea that all they ever knew about the Borg was not as clear-cut as it seemed, while she only gazes upon him as her latest enslaved possession at this point.

"Perhaps I should rephrase the question – I wish to understand the organisational relationships, are you their leader?" Data asks in turn.

Starting to circle him again by moving to his head end, she reaches out of his direct view, still looking down on his try-as-cool bearing.

"I bring order to chaos," she replies all the more confidently.

Data following her steps by turning his head toward her direction, she slowly meanders to his left side and he can see, that every question is met with some more contradictive answer.

"An interesting, if cryptic response," he mutters back, now even more upset in his before so settled views, looking up into the bright light to ignore her.

The Queen continuing her soundless steps around him, her diamond glinting eyes never leaving his apparently calm state, she gives him a mild taste of her greater knowledge.

"_You _are in chaos Data – _you_ are the contradiction, a machine who wishes to be human."

Data looking at her once with an unsure glance, getting even more uneasy suddenly despite all his emotions offline, over her obviously more detailed knowledge about him, she must have obtained it while he was unconscious. Having by all means tried to figure out what exactly he is, she no doubt came to the fairly obvious conclusion him to be a cybernetic lifeform. A highly sophisticated android, which had made her become thankfully more interested in his most unique construct, rather than destructive oriented ways to dispose of him. Data puzzled about the bizarre fact that she even knows his name, she could have obtained by myriads of ways, she however arrived at that conclusion to his identity by simply remembering him, 'second hand', once she recognised him.

"Since you seem to know so much about me, you must be aware of the fact, that I was programmed to evolve, to better myself," he utters back, trying to appear as controlled as possible.

Having moved to his other side as he directs his curious view at her now more directly, she still smiles her indistinct if forever so superior smile at him, with her head ever so slightly tilted to the left.

"We too are on a quest to better ourselves, evolving toward a state of perfection," the Queen replies all the more convinced.

Stopping close by the table on the side with the curious cylinder still encasing his arm, he looks at her straight on, and counters her fairly high and mighty words instantly.

"Forgive me – but the Borg do not evolve, they conquer."

Stepping as closely as possible now, gazing into his golden eyes still fixed on her silvery pools, she leans over his face with a hungry smile, and intones her next words all the smoother, never closing her lustrous and ever so sensuous lips.

"By assimilating other beings into our Collective, we are bringing them closer to perfection."

"Somehow, I question your motives," he replies, faintly mocking her by then, raising his brows at her not at all in agreement with her proud statement.

To which she counters all the more seductively voiced, never averting her intense gaze, "That is because, you haven't been properly, 'stimulated' yet…"

Intoning her last two words into an ever more sensuous whisper, she gazes intently at him. Data suddenly seized by a fierce rush of the most unpleasant feeling, powerful fear gripping at his every released circuit, he recognises it too well from his previous encounter with it. When his emotion chip had failed to deactivate on overloading his relays, and he was thrown into in the ugly face of overwhelming panic at the brutal hands of grave danger not only to him, a mere two years back now. Gasping up, suddenly realising in sheer horror that she has reactivated his emotion chip all against his wishes, no instant efforts to deactivate it again are coming to his rescue this time. His emotions now controlled by her mere commanding willpower suddenly.

"You have, reactivated my emotion chip – why?" Data gasps up in obvious fear.

With his plaintive voice slightly trembling, all unable to fight her unexpected powers, staring at the ceiling even more helplessly now, he is under her complete control now not only in captured body, but suddenly even his all but manipulated emotions. Just like Lore had done, even though then, he never had realised it in contrast to now, and great fear starts spreading throughout his every flood-gated neural sensors.

"Don't be frightened," she replies soothingly, if not even patronisingly superior.

Pouting at her with a fake if visibly fearful smile, he tries his best to pretend not to be afraid, returning his all the lesser convincing words to her tranquil smile.

"I am not, frightened."

The Queen looking down on the cybernetic tube, it suddenly snaps open on her renewed silent command, and Data turns his head sharply to glare at his arm still held in place. But it has suddenly changed; his bioplast skin stripped the length of his upper arm all around, his cybernetic skeletal construct is laid bare, the few flashing circuitry phase lights still active, and additional tiny tubes are lying exposed within. Feeding something altogether differently, held in position by four crude clamps attached to the ugly mechanical surface, it is a thin layer of raw, human, and live – skin!

Gazing at it with a familiar feeling of pure dread all of a sudden, as it was applied there against his free will most of all, the itself apprehensive sentiment combines with his usual curious wonder to compensate, not even wanting to contemplate whose it might have been to begin with, if most likely one of his misfortunate fellow officer's. The unusual stir of this organic implant suddenly interfacing with his otherwise sensation-void nature, he tries hard to stay calm at the sudden buzzing he can feel. A tangible sensation originating from it, he is not quite sure for what subversive purpose they have done this to him.

"You know what this is Data?" she asks softly and calmly, looking into his perplexed eyes.

Staring back at her still in obvious mild shock, he formulates his reply as best objectively, glancing at his trapped arm and then at her, making himself sound as detached as possible to mask his great trepidations.

"It would appear, that you are attempting to graft organic skin onto my endoskeletal structure."

Smiling at his suddenly so 'harmed' expression, she coos him all the more now, radiating her deep sparkling eyes into his anxious look, with her voice melting into his every new sensation.

"What a cold description, for such a beautiful gift…"

Data frowning at it in hesitant anticipation, she leans over his arm and brings her blood-red mouth close to the fresh layer of sliced skin, nearly touching it. Parting her voluptuous lips, she slowly blows on it with a long warm breath, and instantly the tiny hairs on it erect, with the patch forming small Goosebumps at the instantaneously 'stimulated' effect. The compulsive sensation of this time infinitely more pleasurable scope shooting from his arm throughout his entire body, it is flooding his every activated sensor in one warm flush suddenly.

Gasping up in short bursts of sheer delight, with his head straightening back, all his sinewy fingers flicking out into a sharp angular shape. Closing his eyes while his most sensuously outlined lips part in more want of the same, turning his aroused eyes back to hers, the intense feeling of tactile pleasure is subsiding just as fast as it has engulfed him.

"Was that good for you?" she purrs at his obvious delight almost smugly at his fading rapture of elated sighs.

Smiling at her gratified smile, and his very own live flesh suddenly in almost a mildly delirious sense of wanting to utter yes, all he can manage is a sound of whispering satisfaction. Raising her head just as pleased at his obvious concurring, seeing his wide gild eyes glow like a glimmering sunrise suddenly, she draws back to let him recover for now. Knowing, what she will do to him next, might not be so pleasant for him, or perhaps even too overpoweringly sensual, for his awakened sensors to actually be able to literally compute the so far already unfamiliar input of literal, and more pleasing physical sensations.

As he lays still puzzled, and the last mildly tingling feeling is subsisting from his charged system, she slides a step down the table, still smiling still open-lipped. With the unearthly glint in her mysterious eyes increasing suddenly, she smirks at him with an even more whispering and seductive if at all possible gasp coming from herself. Following her inviting gaze, she holds her small right hand over his lower torso, nothing more than hold it very closely never touching it, for a few seconds at his most curious frown. Data suddenly arching up at the utterly unexpected and all the more unknown stir emanating from her now direct touch, not even having contact with him and that particular place, he had not at all anticipated nor really expected to be exposed to this either way.

With his head pressing against the table plate, his entire body is immediately stiffening up, and he is left open-mouthed and eyes pressed shut in pure delight, as all his fingers once more form into angular tension as before. Unable to free himself to even fully generate the physical movements it requires to indulge in them while sensing these new feelings of physical pleasure, gasping up in a way he never had even just now, he simply can not resist the most enjoyable sensation flooding his every titillated nerves suddenly. Which are now utterly different in greater compass as to the ones he only just now has experienced from the little skin patch, all but denoting what can be described as pure – lust!

Unable to control his so overwhelming physical reaction to her most unusual touch, he has never felt before as to when he had been intimate with the late Tasha all so many years ago now, and starts groaning heavily at the real physical sensations, true erotic gratification unlike then. When he had performed all literally mechanically, not feeling anything but pressure on his artificial manhood. Only the intellectual satisfaction to have given her the same in physical form, at both their intoxicated role playing game of her sexual needs directed at him then.

And that merely once in all his life, since he never had been closer beyond a just as perfunctory kiss or two, to his only ever 'girlfriend' D'Sora sometime later. Who then deserted him quickly for having been unable to feel or give 'real' emotions, when he even tried to oblige her with a special subroutine, to at least play at playing lovers and did his best to fit into the expected position as her concerned partner – All to no avail at any rate, at her inability to cope with his 'artificial' nature copying such human sentiments, not even for his own failure to deal with her greater expectations.

Unable to comprehend why he feels so differently right now nonetheless, not only at the increasing sensations of lustful liberation, getting more and more aroused by her extraordinary touch, she leers at him with her purring words. Asking, if he can feel her warm touch, the sensual heat rising, the sexual pleasure engulfing him. Data still only fully dressed and restricted to move away, or even along with her slow rhythm, he presses the back of his head against the hard restraint, open-mouthed, gasping for more if not in words. Realising, it can never be only for his emotions still on full alert, for a moment, he is losing all clear thinking.

Yet, it is all against his wishes to be taken this way, no matter how immensely pleasurable, gathering that they might have grafted live flesh there as well, utterly against his own volition. And all the more, his immobilised body while he had been unconscious, not only to ascertain what he was made of thus. Which is simply not acceptable at his at least Starfleet officer status. But then again, this is cold-blooded war, and no rules seem needed to be adhered to anymore. Where was the Seldonis Convention disallowing the abuse of prisoners of war within the Federation when you needed it? Yet then again, this is the altered past that never was, and nothing righteous applies anymore with Earth a Borg infested subculture suddenly, which could never be changed.

His all but assaulted thoughts suddenly drifting into the firm belief, that not all she wants him for is to relent and join her Collective, it is to force him into surrendering the release of the encryption codes. Unable to contest her in words, his empty breath is pressed from him at the bursts of her every gaining touch. The unacceptable loss of his free choice at his objectionable captured state, it finally makes Data start protesting. Locked in a grimace of desperately fighting her suddenly in ever more resistance to her insistence, Data tosses his head from side to side with his eyes shut tightly. Not in pleasurable arousal, but painful struggle. Not like this. Not as her captive.

Getting desperately upset now, he starts shuddering under her continuous most sensual touch, her pouring out ever more lascivious words to lure him into ceasing his struggles. Only wanting ever more the moment she slows her most satisfying caress, asking if he likes her pleasuring him in a shallower or deeper measure would please him better, he yet can not permit himself to make words his physical desires, purely for his enslaved circumstances. Groaning ever harder against his will, at last even golden tears escape from his quivering eyes left in helpless distress. Gasping for the breath he does not even possess, he finally screams for her to stop in desperate pain, and great fears to die even under the terrible duress and stress put on his entire system.

With his piercing yell echoing through the halls of Engineering, wanting to cry out loudly for more and deeper pleasure, all he knows for sure is, that he will fail his battered willpower soon to keep struggling against her so potently sensual touch, arousing ever more licentious desire within his every searing nerves, burning with increasing levels of sheer lust. Yet he simply can not allow himself to fall into the sensual trap she has laid for him no doubt, desperate tears streaking his face grimacing into hysteric revolt. With the overpowering craving for more, unable to free himself most of all, his wrists seem to break under his fierce tearing on the unyielding restraints. His ever more veined hands cramping into angled tools again, as if trying to claw himself free with them, his ankles start hurting for his constant pulling on them clamped tight, to counter her relentlessly more callous, and all so pleasurable touch.

The Queen not reacting to his ever more pleading gasps for her to stop, as only watch his clamouring despair in ever her own growing satisfaction and ecstatic sighing, she is feeling the very same as he does. Turned on by his growing difficulties to resist her, she can clearly see his terrible torment on his contorted wet face, and hear it in his drowning fibrillating voice. With her open lips quivering and shoulders rising to her own sensual pleasures, she throws back her head at his every desperate attempt to resist, or the least not to surrender to her. Standing closely, never relenting her strong powers over him with both hands now still hardly touching him, she is staring at his desperate face with ever more dangerously glinting eyes, to arrest his futile struggles against her even more in his ever rising panting of her lustful injection.

Writhing under her oh so desirable touch, and his own increasingly painful rejection, she blinks at him, and he suddenly is like paralysed, all unable to move a cyber muscle, except for his head and lips able to stir. Sudden panic overpowering at that even more undesirable state now suddenly imposed on him besides, his every nerve burning with more desire, she takes almost perverse delight in his endless trouble, now even more trapped inside his now completely immobilised body. Licking her red lips nearly delirious with his rapidly weakening fight, and ever renewed pleading for her to stop, gasping out his ever more faint words, repeating them over and over, as if to drive himself into his futile attempts to make them real, he can feel the unbearable torture tear apart his every relays in a delirious state of gaining madness.

Still cramping himself into ever more constrained convulsions, of yearning pleasure and throbbing agony, she teases him again, if he can feel his neural net ablaze with lustful desires, tearing on his every pathway and servos running hot to dangerously overheat, unable to release the pressure all paralysed. Trying hard not to surge into a fatal system failure in his painful torment, he tries to think of his fighting friends out there dying perhaps, of his failed duties to avoid capture, the endless universe he might not even see again. And his own never-ending battle, not to lose his clear thinking and fall short of himself, at least mentally.

With her however only resorting to up the already unbearable pressure on his entire neural net, she leans herself over his stiff body never relenting her intense force over him, leering into his desperate face in ever more excited lust herself. Tormenting his every failing attempt to resist her, she whispers into his useless pleading and gasping for more, to give up the codes, staring into his widened eyes like a ferocious animal having him for literal dinner any second.

Data slamming his head back as if trying to knock himself out, unable to stand the terrible emotional dilemma forced on him, the physical agony of wanting her never to stop in his painful paralysed helplessness, she suddenly claws into his hair with both hands to arrest him. Still trying to hold on to his dutiful thoughts to take himself out of the unbearable situation, not to get overthrown by sheer lust, her unbelievable powers over his very body, he is all but finally failing at his too potent physical reactions of sheer want and dangerous pain clashing, he simply can not control anymore either way.

Utterly bound now with the lustful torture burning into his positronic brain made real, he finally screams out in too great an unbearable pain, tearing on her hands still clamped in his hair tossing his head from side to side in utter agony. Until one final yell loudly tops his choking voice, for her to stop with a fraught hissing at her so close grin, getting aggressively desperate now blazing at her with clenched teeth. Hating every incessant second of his perverse torment, he only wants more of the wholly pleasurable power running through him. Yet he shouts out to end her repulsive torture, and never to release the codes, only screaming out for release one final time in gasping anguish

And there she suddenly even ceases her attack, slowly taking away her hot hands with a nasty leer, a last smack of her wet lips, sensing he would have lost his besieged senses and mind any second now, and the almost mocking words of, "All right, all right," only wanting to observe how far he would or could resist her. Which so far no one ever has been able to withstand or endure half as long or fought as strongly, and she finds more than trilling besides.

Rising rapidly, repeating her soothing words with smiling delight, he arches up even more violently, suddenly released from her brutal bodily control, with his cramping fingers spreading apart again, nearly breaking at the abrupt release of the so intense sensual input. Groaning loudly, nearly shouting out for her to continue her sensual touch if not torture, blinking rapidly nearly blinded by his golden tears, he can feel the fading pain and most of all the sheer lust throbbing inside his every neural pathways, now made completely physical.

Pulling on his unbending restraints, hurting his now fully sensitised body even more, he is gasping away with open lips and loud bursts of ceasing breath nearly losing cohesion of his pathways collapsing suddenly. With the fiercely sensual spasms running through his fully sensitised shell slowly subsiding, the severe tension finally ebbs with the electrical impulses gradually fading. Slowly relaxing with his aching nerves discharging at his very fingertips, not even having reached the full range of sexual ecstasy let alone pinnacle, he lays gratefully left in peace, to have been spared for now.

And yet he deeply yearns for the final encounter this exquisite type of physical pleasure can offer, imagining how it might be, when enabled to experience all this and more by free will and liberated body. Without the grisly torture to force such ecstasy on him, he never had felt even so far either way. Nonetheless glad she has stopped for the moment, and all the more so that he could resist her violent demands to release the codes, he gasps up one last time in trust she has indeed.

Needing to recover himself nearly starting to cry again over the sudden loss of the blissful sensations, and all the more unaffected desires for more rushing through him despite her powerful torment, he yet lies in overwhelming relief, not to serve her as unwilling sexual object any longer. Trapped in the terrible distress to be at the receiving end of vile torture only to gain the ship's encryption codes, and that her very fate is literally depending on his very breath not to surrender them, he closes his eyes, feeling harrowed and abused despite the most pleasurable upsurge still tingling in his every neural pathway.

With his breathing calming and still slightly trembling lips dry and open, she steps by his relaxing face, having composed herself just as quickly as she became aroused herself. Once more smiling her slick smile at his heaving torso, his screaming relays and overheated servos having to need to work the extra sensor overload, it cools down his own inner working the same. Like a human heart and lungs would slowly calm down. Feeling his inner turmoil residing, his wrists and ankles burning with the chafed skin, the live flesh ablaze with aching fire all laid bare at his attacked nerves, he tries hard to bring his assaulted thought process back into clearer order.

As she gently touches for his temples, only for him to startle terribly, widening his near aghast eyes at her hypnotising glimmering pools with a recoiling gasp, he is expecting more unpleasant input, staring at her in moving away his head. But she only feels for his temples again, smiling and soothing his obvious distress, with the very same hands that had violated him just a moment ago. Yet now easing his extreme turmoil while whispering her last words once more, they almost tenderly caress his apprehensive face like a true lover.

And yet he begs her again to discontinue, fearing her soft touch might hurt or even arouse him some more, only for her to slowly come closer still, and most gently start wiping away his golden drops. Kissing his pained gaze, until he gives in to her genuine caring to see him recover himself, she yet not deactivates his emotion chip, to grant him the full range of every possible emotional input. No matter how disturbingly unpleasant or cravingly pleasing.

Certainly having other plans for him, she can wait for him to give himself freely, having seen him unexpectedly fight like a killer Borg, and all the more protest his captivity and pain so violently, and never relented to give up the codes besides, yet took literal pleasure in her sensuous contact. Suddenly finding him even only more tempting and alluring, she will award him with more attention soon again, after he has been transformed with more live flesh, on her willing exchange to give him what he felt desirable. For the codes if that it might take, as time has no meaning to her, or him to betray his fellow crew, a mere minor obstacle to be eradicated or indeed assimilated.

All as no one else on the ship seems intent to interfere with her while her drones are taking care of the rest of them, and she even holds one of them right in her very hands. His most extraordinary life, she only had heard of, no less fairly known in galactic circles, and instantly recognised him to be just that one Soong-type android of the _USS_ _Enterprise _for sure. Finally possessing his even more exciting body she never could touch before, his very soul all hers now, along with his every awakened sense of kindled emotion, she is the undefeated Borg Queen. Realising his great potential beyond all that, with her personal interest in him aroused far beyond their bizarre situation, she is finally set in the intent for him to become her very, ultimate companion after a long time of no suitable candidate to even have been contemplated.

As she finishes her tender care and runs her gloved hands over his dark and glossy hair to smooth it back into order, like a true lover almost as if apologising for her physical intrusion against his will, and no doubt violent demands, he is struck by her suddenly so different and warm demeanour. Yet he can not allow himself to ever trust her even if he wanted to, torn between his prevailing duties already. Not to see his friends and fellow crew fall even greater prey to her, he could not even expect to look for him, and her utterly fascinating presence, and even unspoken want for him he can sense clearly.

And as much as he feels deserted still bound her most reluctant captive all on his own, he understands with greatest sorrow, that his ever more retreating personal sentiments can never be seen realised which would mean so much to him. And which he can allow himself by mere thoughts alone besides, yet never see made flesh reality, as long as he is her prisoner most of all and simply can not permit her to succeed in any form. Over them, and his very own life as an officer, or even individual thrust into this complex situation, and the least his very sacred body used against himself even, purely to relent and give up the codes.

Which he would have no trouble with maintaining or even continue fighting her until fatality would shut him down, could he just simply deactivate his only so fresh emotions. Feeling all the more fathomlessly saddened at the very thought, that it all might end up in even more ugly death, and final destructive for anyone. Even himself, or her. Thinking of the great chance of not making it out alive, which right now is appalling to him while in captivity like that, it was a matter of fact to his logical mind merely otherwise, and of no true concern, as oblivion was no less familiar to him and could not be altered once entered for good.

Data once more needing to resign himself to his most undesirable state of distressing affairs, she retreats with a last smile at his wandering reflections. Ordering forth some of the only now reappearing drones, they step by the table, which moves slowly back into an upright position. Clicking into place, they continue with his arm to graft more live skin to it. in ever completing strips, until they cover his entire upper arm, still held down by the clamp each time they finish their specific surgical task. Still immobilised as the rest of him.

But eventually after all his concerned introspective languishing, worried attempts to think himself into oblivion, which unfortunately does not engulf him once more, he all the while is watching them silently and utterly concentrated to finish with his arm fairly quickly. Until suddenly another more desirable idea springs to his all but there titillated mind, at the very fact, that they need to remove the restraint to his wrist to do just that. With his troubled thoughts instantly turning to a more hopeful coloration, he starts to contemplate something different altogether for himself now, realising this is the one chance to – escape!

Suddenly finding it more an intellectual than physical challenge to end his bound state, and with a sly glimpse to his side masking it as being as uninterested as might, he tries to divert them by talking to the two Borg as if nothing much is wrong. Starting to talk to them directly making it sound as casual as possible, he buries all the emotional memories of his previous strong sensations, and babbles his usual more inquisitive nature at them, right back where it belongs, attempting himself at playing at emotional contradictions.

"Tell me – are you using a polymer-based neurorelay to transmit the organic nerve impulse to the central processor in my positronic net… if that is the case, how have you solved the problem of increased signal degradation inherent to organosynthetic transmission across…"

"Do you always talk this much?" the Borg Queen's voice can be heard again suddenly, sharply interrupting him, sounding from farther behind him in coming closer.

Data pouting to himself in shaking his head vaguely, he would even shrug his shoulders if he could. Yet, being ever too restrained by his fetters to even do that, his alert mind is all the more unbound at this near humorous point of his genuine reaction.

"Not always – but often," he replies softly, while the two drones continue their skilled handiwork.

As she reappears with flowing steps, and he gazes at her stepping in front of him, she counters him immediately with a near mocking voice suddenly, tilting her head again in this superior nearly conceited manner. Her glinting diamond eyes stabbing back at his calm gaze, Data finds her no lesser exigent than appealing.

"Why do you insist on utilising this primitive linguistic communication? – Your android brain is capable of so much more."

As it appears they are back at their more hostile way of verbal exchanges suddenly, he counters just as fast in peering down on her fairly short figure, from under his now raised level of position standing up taller than her.

"Have you forgotten? I am endeavouring to become more human," Data replies just as softly and utterly convinced, as his mind feels just as raised at this suddenly sparkling moment speaking the truth.

Immediately retorting with an even greater sneering sound and raised chin, she spits back at his still stare fixed on her in a ridiculing voice.

"'Human'! – We used to be just like them, flawed, weak, 'organic' – But we evolved to include the synthetic… and now we use both to attain perfection…"

Pausing with her last words dropping into a suddenly again softer and markedly seductive tone, she slowly moves farther away, piercing her scintillating eyes at his pretend look. Data trying to appear not at all concerned about her differing words and his unending state of objectionable capture, steeled by his now formed intent to end it as soon as he sees a fair chance to seize it, she continues her luring stand.

"Your goal should be the same as ours…"

Data out of her immediate reach, and fairly tired suddenly with her vain statements, he shakes his head in total disagreement. Finally trying to almost provoke her, not to feel the creeping fear and anger slowly rising inside him by now again, it is more utter frustration to be in her very hands at all. No matter how much more he would prefer to feel them touching him all over again.

"Believing oneself to be perfect – is often the sign of a delusional mind," Data utters back with a mocking tone to match hers, glaring at her while she slowly moves on like a beautiful venomous serpentine.

"Small words! – From a small being, trying to attack what he doesn't understand!" she instantly sneers back at his almost smug expression, gleaming her chilling eyes at his derisive remark, while he is delighting himself at her angry response, as all the more she resists him now, the further he finds her appealing besides in turn.

Engaging into her cold word battle then, he gladly tries to make her perceive his 'real feelings' about her. Suddenly locked into his more oppositional mindset again, he then counters ever more belligerently intoned, meeting her suddenly equally frosty pools. Just to mask his true sentiments to be all the opposite.

"I understand, that you have no real interest in me – that your goal is to obtain the encryption codes for the _Enterprise_ computer."

Still tilting her head at his unmoved face, at his undiminished interest in playing the game not as a helpless victim, but active partner, she seems to have a rising curiosity in that herself the way she looks at him.

"That is one of our goals… one of many," she coos him once more in coming closer again, with that ambiguous smile lingering around her shiny, half parted lips, he would prefer to meet with his own.

Data looking away for a moment, he sees the clamp being lifted again, for the one drone to proceed with his grafting process, pretending to be utterly uninterested in the presenting detail. The Queen slowly turning toward another place, the drone puts a small hook to Data's freshly applied skin. Data trying hard not to suffer the unpleasant effect of the raw flesh being reattached like ripped-off skin to an open wound to patch it up, without any pain suppressing agent, it is however hurting mildly. Yet Data can not deny the most intriguing sensation it causes, compounded by the fact of his bound state.

"But in order to reach it, I am willing to help you reach yours…" she adds, her soft words dripping like honey. A clear offer.

As the clamp is pressed down on his wrist again, he instantly seizes the one chance he was waiting for, flicks up his arm for the restraint to snap back, throws up his sure hand to punch in some code into the small console attached to the table's top, and at once the clamps on his left hand and ankles release on command. Immediately going for the instantly oncoming Borg in ducking his wielding arm, he snatches for him in return to drag him forwards, and flings him across the close railings of the power conduit with speedy ease.

While other Borg are at once alerted to seize him, another steps into his way, and Data violently strikes him over the chest with his clenched right fist, with the barely healed fresh skin on his arm slamming down on him. Feeling the great impact he had not calculated yet, the drone is flung backwards and falls where he stands destroyed in an instant, with his short-circuiting implants erupting into a flash. Data turning swiftly all but undaunted back in full combat mode again, he propels himself toward the close exit to escape with the quick drones in hot pursuit to stop him.

But as he is suddenly met by a flashing green forcefield appearing right in front of him, on her silent command by merely blinking it to erect, he nearly hits it as he juts out his hands just in time, feeling the strong current repelling his desperate efforts to flee. Getting overpowered by dread again feeling trapped trying to whirl around, he tries to escape the oncoming group of fierce-looking Borg, who partly once have been his very own fellow crewmembers. With the forcefield suddenly vanishing again as fast as it appeared and they surround him, all he knows is that he could not succeed before and would not succeed now, to engage them in another pointless fight, when he needs to stay at least unbound to survive.

As he sweeps around and one of them is wielding a sharp-tooled arm at him, it suddenly comes descending down on him, and he instinctively raises his own to block his attack. With the blade cutting right into his tender new skin, a very sharp pain is piercing through his entire nervous system, and he cries out with the most disagreeable sensation. Stunning him into immediate surrender, he instantly clutches for his bleeding arm in utter disbelief. Nearly losing his balance at the most unpleasant input, utterly different as to the painful rejection to her touch, he gazes up as they yield, while she only smiles at his hurt eyes and utterly incredulous expression.

Raising her right hand for the drones to withdraw, and a most satisfied smile flies across her mildly sneering lips, they do so without a sound to resume their tasks or retreat. While Data just stands there totally sidetracked now, the sharp pain pulsating through his every awakened nerve, utterly unable to comprehend what just happened.

"Is it becoming clear to you yet? Look at yourself!" she mocks him suddenly. "Standing there, cradling your new flesh I've given you – If it means nothing to you, why protect it?" she then says with a very soft and calm voice in approaching him slowly with a smug expression.

Passing him slowly and very closely, she stops to turn and gaze back at him. Data lifting his grimacing face in sheer turmoil now, clutching his arm throbbing with the unfamiliar injury, he does not know what to say. Feeling confused and differently assaulted suddenly, he finally mutters back vague words coming into his incoherent mind.

"I… I am simply imitating the behaviour of Humans…" Data replies in staring at her deeply hurt most of all, trying to get his combat mode back into order, now suddenly offlined.

Turning to his pitiful plight, she retorts more commanding and yet so smoothly voiced, still smiling her ever-triumphant smile at his pained eyes appearing utterly distracted and near lost.

"You are becoming more human all the time Data, now you're learning how to lie!"

Data indeed in a highly confused state, he looks around, not sure what to do next. Seeing no alternate but to stay as prevailing duty tells him to, yet wanting to run off with his emotions tearing on his every memory circuit, he wishes he could at least just feel true anger again. Like only years back, when Lore had turned him into a cold killing machine, just so to cover up his deep hurt and oppose her, his unwanted flesh and the entire burdensome situation.

"My, programming was not designed, to process these sensations," he mumbles back his more than audibly trembling words, still holding his hurting arm, falling back one step.

"Then tear the skin from your limb as you would a defective circuit," she whispers in taunting his clear dilemma all the more in raising her head at him, while he feels all the more unfocused now.

Looking at her even more incredulously now, and then back at his sore arm, she teases him yet the further, softly encouraging his every physical temptation.

"Go ahead Data – we won't stop you…"

Moving his other trembling hand over one raw edge of the hardly attached skin patch, he intends to rip on it to remove it feeling suddenly all the more revolted by it, more than in fear of the impending even greater pain it would no doubt cause, only wanting to see it leave his violated body. Along with all associated sensations not to cause him any anymore. Only unpleasant ones at that, or unwanted pleasures he can not even delight in. While she only intones him, to do it, not be tempted by 'flesh' –

17


	4. Chapter 3 The Lust & Love

The Lust & Love------------------------------------------------------

But as his nails seem to claw into the tender skin, apparently trying hard to detach it, he raises his upset and slightly aghast face at her again, and suddenly flags in his intent, unable to bring himself to actually do it never ripping on it. Only staring at her satisfied smile and those glinting orbs driving into his lost gaze, she slowly nears him. Like an exotic cat, waiting patiently to pounce on her helpless prey, and he suddenly straightens slightly, staring at her in fear of some other exchange of uncertain events.

"Are you familiar with physical forms of pleasure?" she asks all the more softly and evoking, as her time has come to take what is hers, but at his own free will.

Reacting to her most unexpected words as if never having heard them before, which he can remember to have been asked only once before by Tasha, he slowly stumbles backwards, realising what will be the next step for him and gasps up in surprise. With his arms falling by his sides, it is nonetheless the way he would have preferred it all along, so suddenly presenting itself. Yet he tries to stay calm and detached at his own newly aroused thoughts, clearly in trouble as to decide what to do now, and utters faint words of repetition at her, while she slides closer and closer.

"If you are referring to…"

By that he hits the back of the table standing right in his way, and he startles slightly gasping up some more unable to retreat further. Yet not even wanting to, since he simply could just sidestep, away from her so tempting body, she still gazes at him with her so sensuous and gleaming eyes, mesmerising him all the more. His words flowing into near blushing undertones.

"Sexuality… I am… fully functional… programmed in multiple techniques…"

Having cornered him now, despite the fact that he could simply just undertake another escape attempt, finally freed from his unwanted physical bonds and her sexual advances under unacceptable duress, she stops very closely in front of him, holding him with her inviting gaze. Yet free to go if he so chooses, he but still can not deny her so sensual existence, and simply does not desire to leave anymore. Feeling the sexual tension rising inside him again, as she has accepted his former protest and now gives him the ultimate chance to decide indeed, she herself simply could take him again even here unbound at her superior powers and open want of him, no doubt at others' less fortunate treatment. So much was clear.

Gazing deeply into his fascinated eyes, suddenly sparkling like a cosmic eruption, all the more gently pressing herself softly against his now slightly shaking body, she even makes him swallow reflexively, hardly able to resist her so intense eroticism. Weighing his aroused chances to be fully swayed to her seductive way no doubt, sounding suddenly all the more desirable now at his free finally choice arrived, he simply has to seize it now. Or lose the one opportunity to see his former desires realised, and never will be able to feel true sexual fulfilment.

Or of course face incalculable reprisal at his renewed rejection, and no doubt graver treatment to follow, and no better chance to escape again. So his ultimate decision is clear to rather co-operate in this particular matter now, than foolishly resist her again, all the more in need to actually stay where he is and keep a more duty-bound eye on her as it were besides. To enable himself finally into a more tactically advantaged position, to even contemplate and perhaps thus execute, what they have had in mind before he even fell into her trap. To rid the ship of the entire Borg hive by destroying the warp core plasma coolant tank, at least 'afterwards'.

"How long has it been since you've used them?" she purrs at him again with her warm Odem.

"Eight years, seven months, sixteen days, four minutes, twenty-two…" he mutters back, never leaving her so flirtatious gaze, getting only increasingly aroused, even recalling every literal second since his only ever encounter with physical, 'love'.

The Queen falling into his excessively analytical words suddenly, she raises her open mouth to his so finely drawn lips, tempting her all the same in return.

"Far too long…" she whispers back still drawing closer, seeing herself suddenly crave for his very breath.

Kissing his still slightly parted and gold-dusted lips before he can utter another meaningless syllable, giving him the ultimate chance to decide now, they disengage slowly. Letting him choose wisely, his all the more seduced eyes dart across her soft, white face of a truly haunting exquisiteness. Looking like a beautiful human reptile suddenly, where he saw only repulsive forces to be rejected at her previous abuse of his rights as a free sentient being to decide, he finally can not resist her anymore, and at last grasps around her slim and warm body. Drawing her even closer, pressing his full lips onto hers, Data has chosen.

As their tongues meet briefly, she draws back again, grasping around his waist to keep him close for now, tasting her warm and moist breath so close to his own all the more impatiently waiting lips. Courting him some more, as that it seems to take for her to see him comply and give himself freely indeed, she is equally willing to offer him this freedom now.

"Are you familiar with the, Tantric way of love making?" she asks softly.

Data trying to access his now all the more hazy memory banks for such an obscure entry, after the initial flustered sigh with his typical head tilt, he gazes into her scintillating eyes all at a renewed loss suddenly, unable to recall any such way. Faintly shaking his head, unable to even imagine what she might mean, still holding her close at his ever more intrigued arousal, she smiles at his so endearingly innocent puzzlement.

"It is the way to galactic ecstasy Data, one you will never feel amiss once you joined me. It will be nothing anyone else has ever tasted and can remain ours forever – I want you Data, here and now, and I will teach you the way," she purrs at him again with glinting eyes. "Give yourself freely into my hands now and you shall never be the same again, man or machine has no meaning – Let me show you, 'my way' Data. You alone deserve to taste it where others have refused me and merely became drones – But you are desirably unique and still unadulterated, give yourself freely to me now and you will never regret it… don't be afraid Data I won't force or hurt you… again…"

Feeling all the more allured already by her mere purring words, he swallows again as if indeed afraid to taste such unearthly thrill only he might deserve. Unable to reply anything for the moment, he gasps at her open shiny lips in passive agreement, and she lightly slides her hands up his sides to reach for his golden face. Laying her fingers to his eyes to softly close them, whispering again, not to be afraid and to trust her, he faintly nods and does not resist her again, choosing freely now at his willing consent. Without any further physical or mental manipulation on her part, to control him.

Reaching for his grey-black uniform collar, she unzips this and his russet under garment slowly from top to waist, by purely holding her hand over it to manipulate it downwards like a magnet. Laying bare his opalescent skin, it is outlined in the shape of a muscular man. Letting her proceed, feeling her gloved hands sliding into the garments, she slips them off his broad shoulders, to remove them from his arms in one go.

Dropping the jumpsuit uniform down to his waist, he opens his utterly enchanted eyes again. Gazing into her black pools of the infinite galaxy, they glisten with ever more insatiable craving. Taking off her thin gloves in one go to drop them to expose her slim white hands, she lays them softly to his suddenly utterly transformed chest. Covered already in part with just the same live flesh, from his groin to his sharp collar bones in one large patch of true human skin, he is as appalled as struck mutely fascinated at the most unbelievable fact.

Not only for the grimly macabre thought that this must have originated from someone's very own assimilated body, but was no doubt one of his own fellow officers too. Looking palish pink, it is covered in shiny, blond and curly hairs. Feeling tender and yet utterly without any pain despite the still newly grafted state he had not even noticed so far, he gazes down on it in absolute bewilderment. Only now realising what had amplified his suffering, and pleasurable sensations the same because of it. This new, real living skin.

Fearfully trying to feel for it with trembling fingers, he yet dares not touch for it, much too confused not only at the speed they have accomplished this, but indeed great surgical finesse they have applied, when he had expected no more than what is present on his arm right now. As he feels for the lush hairs in no lesser awe, she lays her hand to his still wounded arm all lightly. Frowning at her unclear intent, hesitating to touch his new flesh, he almost wants to withdraw his arm in sudden fear of renewed hurt.

But suddenly the blood simply vanishes from his deep cut, it closes up in an instant and his wound and even new skin, besides his very, dull pain buzzing inside his neural net, are all but healed suddenly in one miraculous moment. Even his aching wrists and ankles unexpectedly feel nothing but normal again. As his utterly amazed, and suddenly even more dilated eyes look like black holes of infinite depth, they devour her very own erotic craving with sheer admiration now.

Looking at his healed arm and now perfectly human chest, on her obviously even greater powers he never had expected, no matter having already seen her will his very own shell, and even forcefields, and all the entire Borg hive by mere thought, he suddenly does not feel at all vulnerable anymore. Despite his now even semi stripped and all the more physically exposed condition, so putting his very, altered body, and tentative soul into her most exceptional hands utterly willingly at no obvious deception. Ready to receive whatever they will offer him.

Slipping her warm hands behind his still untouched back, he suddenly panics again at the sudden thought, she might just know or even touch his off-switch to incapacitate him again fully. But she smiles and shakes her head, whispering not to panic, and makes him lay down on the heated deck at the Borg's preference of fairly moist and very warm conditions. Feeling it as very comforting to his surprise, relaxing instantly, she slowly starts sliding her hands lightly back over his now fully sensitised chest, and the pale red areolas suddenly engorged with responsive nerve ends.

Shimmering in the faint lights as if having been dusted with precious gold powder, she starts caressing his tender skin while she positions herself over his thighs with pulled-up knees, and he instantly reacts to her soft touch, arousing his ever only true physical reaction and sexual desires, which he has ever so long yearned for all his life. With his lust welling up rapidly again, he lays in utterly wanted response to her sensual touch this time, and his sighs increase as she holds her hand once more merely over his lower torso, still never even touching him.

Slipping her hands in to pull down the garment to expose his artificial assets now fully erect, with all that even more sensitive and fresh, organic skin covering it, to appear a full human man at his father's well-meant intention and most creative skills, it was done so for him to experience even this intimate side of Humanity as well. But only now it can be considered true sensations, for the real skin conveying real sexual sensations suddenly, in his only now fully charged emotional state, so finally manifesting themselves as physical certainty inside his every neural pathway made flesh. In contrast as to his only ever intimate encounter with sex, and a no lesser delighted Tasha, now utterly incomparable.

As she takes renewed pleasure herself in his own, still only holding her hand over it, it causes him to arch up again in sheer delight, gasping up with her electrifying touch, growing into ever deeper groans of pure lust, finally bursting from his open lips with his eyes pressed shut. With his hands again spreading out into the marked angular shapes, utterly uncontrollable for him not to, his arms fling aside pressing down on the warm deck, utterly relishing her most skilled pleasuring him this time.

With her own arousal following her own rhythm, he stiffens up ever more with his whole body tensing up under her changing caresses, still purely holding her hand over it in running it up and down touching it wispily. Making sounds of ecstatic pleasure he never heard before to leave his trembling lips, he finally lets himself falling freely and entirely, with nothing in his ruptured thoughts, but the final fulfilment of a never before tasted physical desire, and the resulting sheer satisfaction.

Where nothing else is important, nothing else matters at this his very own moment anymore, as only to savour his every intense sensation the very first time. Utterly forgotten the bizarre fact of his extraordinary captivity, and fellow crewmembers being turned into more Borg right now. And the minor detail that no one is coming for him, no one even tries to rescue him, at no sign of his friends or colleagues to even ascertain what happened to him in any form.

But this very moment he would not even care about that they have no doubt deserted him, to leave him perhaps even to deal with whatever is taking place here all on his own. Or might even believe him dead or assimilated already, after some hours passed by now. Not caring for anything else right now, all he feels is insatiable want for more, only gasping into further pleasurable delight.

As she suddenly ceases her very action, he violently shudders up even more at the unexpected release of the intense tension, and all but unusually even higher lustful reaction to the loss of her potent caress, still feeling her hot hand hovering over his burning skin. Raising his head in staring at her open and wet lips gasping just like his own do, he starts squirming under the restricting pressure of her body still squatting on his knees, with his fingers clawing into the deck.

"Does that give you, 'pleasure' Data?" come her purring words again.

The Queen leering at his quivering lips, his head falls back, unable to figure out why she stopped. Getting slightly confused over her words, sounding so much like Lore's when he had him under his utter control, he was taunting his every emotional withdrawal pains. Gasping loudly as she rises to lean over his astounded face, he even seizes around her waist as if to hold her close not to leave him now, in mild fear she might just do that.

"Oh yes please, I want more…" he pants back with a whispering breath.

Smiling into his full black eyes shining with more lustrous depth suddenly, she coos him again in breathing closely to his golden mouth, and starts caressing it all the more seductively with her own. With her being utterly fascinated by the sharp outline and slightly pouting upper curve, shimmering her radiant eyes at his last gasp, he can taste her warm and sweet Odem again. The so unusually seductive scent of her natural body, smelling of mildly musky essence, combined with the delirious note of pure opium.

"Don't despair Data," she whispers back, caressing his golden face tenderly at his near anxious gazing back into her silvery countenance. "Every time you will be close to reaching your fill, I will desist, to increase your every pleasure the next time, reaching a higher level of intensity, until you cannot take anymore and I will let you taste the highest satisfaction of all… that is _my _Tantric way."

Before he can even react to her most pleasing words, getting the no less all the more desirable idea behind her exciting sexual technique indeed, left in mild apprehension as that it might be too much for him indeed, she starts to move her whole body slowly up and down over his still firm groin by mere inches. Pressing herself down gradually as if she might be the male partner thrusting into herself in his place. Getting aroused herself again at his very own renewed gratification, he holds her to his own deliberate rhythm, letting him guide her slow movements. Lightly licking on his open lips gasping for more even in words of excited whispers, sliding her hands under his neck to grab into his lustrous hair. This time it is as a passionate lover, and not perverse violator.

After a few moments of highly stimulating friction, she rises slowly for him to let her go, to glide her hands over his heaving chest, through the blond curls now all his own, and down to his groin eagerly awaiting her renewed caress. Closing his big and gild flooded eyes again in sheerest anticipation, she holds her lips over his firm manhood to blow on it again with her warm breath, holding on to his tender sides only. Instantly sending him into even deeper shockwaves of sheer delight rushing through his entire system, after a few more moments, once more his arms slam down, his sinewy hands flicking out into sharp angles. Making him arch up now more violently, he descents straight into further ecstatic thrills, loudly groaning with every of her most unusual caresses.

As he nears the point of no return soon, she suddenly desists again withdrawing her warm breath, and once more he groans into more unyielding pleasures tearing through his every limbs. Trembling with the sudden fading input like a leaf, contracting hard in raising his shoulders and head off the deck, he falls back again in wondrous exhilaration, leaving him to recover again for a short while. Licking her gasping lips in great delight herself, asking if he wants more, teasing him again, he lays open-mouthed and then gazes at her again, half delirious with the torturous loss of the most pleasurable sensation, relaxing gradually, to prepare himself eagerly for more.

"Oh yes – I want more…" Data sighs back again with an ecstatic smile.

Smiling at his suddenly just as desperately yearning eyes, she lightly brushes over his burning groin with both hands almost teasingly cruel, making him only more sensitised and wanting. Just like Lore had. Again holding her hot fingers above his toning manhood, for her supernatural energy to come flushing through his entire body, only more sharp gasps press from his insatiable lips like electric currents. Tossing his head from side to side, losing himself into more sheer lust, the ever increasing pulses start shooting through his entire aflame system, to discharge at his very fingertips ever more rapturously now.

"It gives you, 'pleasure'?" flows her whispering tease.

Lifting his shoulders again in drawing back his ever sharper outlined lips, twitching under her most pleasurable touch, he cramps his hands to his hot and tender chest. Running his fingers through his own new hairs, he swallows several times to form faints whispers of mild despair suddenly trembling in his voice. Intoning his first words the very same way he had before, when asked by Lore's very own Borg crony Crosis, if he would even kill his own friend, if by that, he could trigger and feel emotions again, already under his evil spell then, had answered that, yes, he would. Only now coming back to him as most unpleasantly haunting reminder, the moment they leave his ever more craving lips, he suddenly falls all desperate again.

"'Yes it does'… oh yes… but please, do not taunt me with painful words my disturbed brother Lore spoke, while he, controlled my every emotion and will, I beg you please I… only want more… without any restraints…"

Getting suddenly upset, at the negative emotions he had suffered at his very hands, turning away his head as if to resort to break it all off himself suddenly, he is not even realising what he just gave away even by name. Bringing his arms to his sides forming loose fists, with his lips pressing shut as if curling into a prelude of sudden tears returning, he again is sharply being reminded of the most peculiar reality of his impossible situation suddenly.

No matter his free choice now to let her do what she does to him, which she instantly recognises as unexpected vulnerability returning to his gild face, changing into near despair again, intent to ease his pain in turn. Laying herself over his shivering body again, she puts her ever healing fingers to his quivering lips, hushing him into silence, caressing his veined temples turning his face to hers, and calms his every fears instantly.

Only remembering vaguely that his brother Lore was dubbed as, 'The One', who had taken over a splinter group in both their true, current future, having parted from her very own collective by their direct interference with one on the young drones, and then returned some years earlier, it by that had utterly upset the calm and collected hive mind to near total self-destruction. Which then had enabled Lore to actually return some of them to their fully 'artificial' form, however suddenly furnished with consciously individual minds and feelings at his very own more 'passionate' ideas for them.

Come to her attention by literal word of galactic mouth, and exchange of ever more connected minds of assimilated souls, aware of this chapter of her own lost history she knew then, or remembers now, all she knows now is that Lore was never heard from again, or his suddenly aware Borg cell. That so after a deadly skirmish with his very own brother, or rather Starfleet having once more succeeded to eliminate more Borg under his very own Captain. The one who had escaped her years earlier. And that with Data's very own help, which in turn only had destroyed many more of the future's collective, and she then had not found amusing at all.

Now it seems more bizarre than anything, that this future will never take place, no matter Lore's Borg where of self-aware 'designation' or under his even all the more desired 'return to synthetic if more passionately aware lifeform' dogma besides, even if ever more free thinkers by that under his own control. Which the Borg have always been, striving to become more 'artificial' than 'organic', since to her a Borg was a Borg until dead – Her Borg. What a most fateful coincidence to have his very brother, right here in her very, sensuous clutches. No matter she gifted him with the exact opposite, with all that live skin.

Suddenly realising this at his so careless words, she gets even more intrigued now, at the very amazing fact that this would imply there is another one of his very powerful and awesome construct somewhere. If not having been destroyed, and she however can not hope to be so fortunate to lay her hands on as well, at this her unbelievable luck with this very officer already. Who had felled this his very own brother, she can sway, and she will sway and keep to herself. Not only to turn the Collective into the most powerful species there is, already having assimilated nine billion of Earth's very own past alone even without his eminent powers, but to see to the now actually yet non-existent Federation destroyed, at the utterly altered timeline.

With no prospect of returning to their true future, which as such thereafter will never even happen as it had, it is presenting the most bizarre fact of all, that neither of them ever would have been created in any form either, to even return to this past which never happened in the future they both had left in the first place. At this most fateful paradox of time travel thus, her victory was sealed already. Even if they might succeed to destroy her and her current hive, Earth's Borg population would not be affected, warp drive and the Federation would never be born, and there was no need for him to defend something that does not even exist yet, or anymore.

Unless they would find a way to prevent her from interfering with their plans, to see her fail to keep the altered past as it is now, never have the first warp rocket tested, and more so find a way to enable them to return to their own original future to safeguard all that. Which all but rests no less on his very shoulders he no doubt realises, to see her fall as well like his very own brother. Or indeed not, at her sure intent not to let him repeat his efforts, by assuring him to her side, and by sexual persuasion if needed. Not unlike what Lore had done to him back then, by manipulating his every emotions and free will, she does not need to apply herself at any rate anymore, now that he is her sensual captive. If not even sex slave to his own motivations.

Not wanting to remind him of neither his verbal slip, even though it might not even be one at the fact that his brother would undoubtedly still be in the gone future then, which will never take place, so all her current thoughts are of total moot suddenly, and she resorts herself to see this thus all the more unique brother turns calmed again, at his obvious distress to even be reminded of him. Let alone be asked about whatever happened to his charismatic sibling. In no further interest at his sure fate not to exist anymore, she would have wanted to meet on equal terms, but of course will never the chance. Expressing her true sentiments to keep this, his said very image ever emotionally and physically satisfied, Data reflects her very own gratified desires by that.

"Alright, alright… don't despair Data," she whispers again, brushing over his parted lips all softly. "It seems you need a lot of healing done to your body and soul. Forget your brother, he's long gone and cannot hurt you anymore. I will give you more without restraints, until you have reached your fill."

Gently stroking over his suddenly so hurt eyes, the very thought that Lore is not at all gone, but on this very ship right now under his own care shut down by himself, after their last near fatal encounter, becomes suddenly unbearable. Lore having been close to destruction by Starfleet at not the slightest rights to even defend himself, it was not unlike what had happened to himself nearly facing such fate, never having declared Lore a sentient being either. Happy enough he could prevent his brother from being destroyed like a broken machine, officially.

Closing his quivering lids while she caresses his golden lashes and darker brows with great and true affection, lightly kissing him to relax slowly, he feels utterly horrible at this very moment. Over all the needed deception and never diminishing lust for her, and her obvious want of him beyond the encryption codes, nearly crying again at the great pain tearing on his every open nerve, and that she may never even know about any of that.

Hungrily opening his mouth again, which dramatically sees his upper lip arc upwards even more now like a sharply outlined cupid's arrow, she will never be able to resist him either. Turning on her own lustful desires all the more, with each light vibration trembling across the silky surface, like delicate golden butterfly wings fluttering in the breezes, he drinks her very breath once more avariciously. Instead of his own, now infused with the taste of his very own sweetly flesh, in grateful return to her hopeful words. Clutching for her warm and slim body, encased in a soft layer of black leathery skin, he is afraid to lose her close contact at this very, utterly captivating moment.

Data feeling utterly deserted besides, greatly torn to shreds inside the very heart he does not even possess, his confused mind is aching with his sheer want of her, and all the more terrible fact, that he can not ever be with her. Or even let her be, after what delicious exquisiteness they have shared already, as he knows all too well what he will have to do, and to her, bound by his prevailing duties to prevent this past from perpetuating itself.

Hating the fateful fact as much as he desires her, the gloomy shadow of inevitable crisis of his conscience is finally looming over his torn mind, only wishing he never had been taken by the confounded Borg, forcing him into this most bizarre situation. Or to have ever set his lured eyes on her tempting body, which is all weighing ever more heavily on his shoulders now. Or to fight for something which has not even been invented yet either – himself.

As still no one even attempts to communicate with him, perhaps thought lost forever, or even believe willing part as to her obvious intent by now, or if they really just bide their silent time to give him his chance to see to her or rather the Borg's disposal, no one had ever gathered she had survived their last battlefield in the first place. Yet the uncertainty as to why exactly no one appears, gnaws on his ever further beleaguered soul even more than his electrified body lies in shackles of sheer lust, he does not even want to shed.

With his trapped mind in shudders, as his awakened body lies in pleasurable return of her soothing closeness, and the very enemy in his willing arms, perhaps even in genuinely wanting him to be her equal and eternal mate, it just as much could be used to lay utter waste to it all. At his no doubt if once incorporated, much greater powers and superior knowledge. And against these his very friends, who do not even attempt to come to his rescue.

Just like he once had almost started to attack them in their true future, on the input of his very ambitious brother, only wanting to return him to what he was designed to be; a man machine. Even if with then emotions instilled in him, with human feelings and human needs. Yet had they been really all that wrong, when all he did was try to return them to their very origins? Even in his own 'artificial' image the Borg always were? Thinking of the fact that Lore might have been a very successful manipulator, he can fully understand what his intent had been then, and now even wishes they had been successful in destroying the Federation, as otherwise he would not be here right now with her. But his only brother, now dead and gone.

Getting confused again with his wandering thoughts drifting far off, all he knows is, that his will is all his own now in contrast to then, even if in his more terribly frayed mind and his yearning body are all hers at his full consent. Feeling strangely safe in her seductive embrace in fact, he only now suddenly perceives that he never had felt like that before either, and unexpectedly senses it as sheer loss besides utterly unknown to his hazy memories.

The shadow of loneliness having followed him all through his unique life so far, never even having become aware of its black and lingering echo, he never ever had felt the reassuring sense of safeness before, which is now eating away on his very soul just the same, since it can never last with her either. And that only for his exceptional life being all Starfleet's, which does not even exist yet either besides right here and now, and has never been his own life at that. Ever since he had chosen a for him logical life aboard the _Enterprise _solitarily, after he had been discovered by the Federation following his father's cruel abandonment. If only he had not wiped his processors.

She alone now regards this his very life in her hands as such exceptional, and thus could not ever be permitted to succeed, and to assimilate him entirely. Or to even see this very ship not ever be built, by swaying him ever more with more tempting tactile live flesh, making him all the more human. His one and only ever aspiration. With more erotic pleasures all but desired lying ahead, which is all he ever had wanted, and wishes for right now.

But no, it could not be ever happen like this. It would almost certainly mean their all eventual destruction, for his utterly superior construct she needs for exactly such an intent, in want to gain his utter pre-eminence to see the altered past a Borg inhabited past stay that way. And thus, no known future will ever arise from that. Small mercies to gratefully let him taste her more sensual powers alone, until they all will be finished soon in whichever way to terminate this entire madness. Just like Lore had been. All in the name of Starfleet.

The Borg Queen somehow sensing his suddenly again so troubled spirit, she resumes her true intent to see him join her indeed, by physical manipulation if needed, but nonetheless no more against his free will he seems to need to see respected mostly, and she will value at her solemn pledge to grant him. As long as he will deliver at the end to her own needs, for the Collective and herself, and will offer him his rightful place beside her as promised, as an equal. As she once had done so before, only to be refused mere years back now – by his very own Captain; Jean-Luc Picard, Locutus of Borg, no more.

This very officer however, she would not want to allow to slip away. Not Data, not this utterly superior being. The one unexpected factor suddenly having presented itself, which not only could mean a potential victory for her hive in one fell swoop outright once integrated fully, and no more Starfleet mindset residing within once finished with him for sure, but the Federation never to be established at all. Except her very own personal desires finally met and seen satisfied besides, with his unsurpassed abilities and literally galactic knowledge, and all the more unadulterated state of exhilarating body and immortal soul. For her to take and all her own now on equal terms, in no subversive objective to bind him again mentally or physically. Not him, not again, not like before.

Finally disengaging from their most arousing kiss, all she can think of are his so appealing, golden and soft lips. Which can only be blamed on the exciting creature that bring them to literal life, as he alone harnesses the mysterious powers of the very universe instilled within his very creator's own image. And whenever his divine creation raises his so erotic upper lip to speak, his velvety voice encompassing so many fine nuances of receptive expressions, with every last spoken word exhaled in an exciting whisper, it seems like another dimension has opened up, both infinitely grand and gracefully elegant. Like a precious diamond tear encompassing the entire spacetime continuum.

His very own tears, golden tears of sheer bliss and endless tragedy, trapped within his very life right now, she does recognise. And his very dilemma needing to feel her close, and yet can never posses her the way he would ever want to, not as long as he is with this very ship and her diminishing crew, his prestigious vocation and no doubt many friends. Who still do not even try to search for him, knowing exactly where he is held, not even against his free determination no more, and she intends to sustain to be by her side alone. All that needs to be accomplished, is to keep them from even attempting to look for him, while her obedient hive will see to that as they lie together, at her own undefeated will and great powers besides.

Rising again in sliding her hands over his firm chest, now all his own shimmering like golden glitter in the faint light and very humid conditions, she returns to pleasure him in tenderly caressing his tensed up flanks, and he slowly gets aroused once more, savouring every gentle stroke of her soft hands. With his alabaster lips quivering in ecstasy, now suddenly infused with the capacity of true tactile sensations of her sensual pleasuring, he can feel every little contact of her gentle touch, until he tenses up too much suddenly, with his stomach starting to ripple in too great a tension, and his head shakes more and more in distraction.

Sensing that he seems to clench up in more discomfort than desired pleasure, she relents her powerful touch. As he relaxes sharply, she soon concentrates on his desirable body again, to give it her all the more salacious attention. Relishing her warm touch instantly with each of her stronger powers, still not touching him more than a butterfly's wing, she makes him groan into instantaneous gratification, at her own ever-increasing lust of his very enjoyment. And each time he seems to reach his fill she stops suddenly, to bring him closer and closer to his final peak, and herself.

At his ever more rapturous reaction to the sudden loss, and delayed renewal of her most accomplished pleasuring him, he is getting ever tenser and slower in his own rhythm, to raise himself to her luscious lips, to softly kiss and lick his ever more sensitized manhood. While his face tenses into ever increased pleasure, his lips widen in rhythmic waves, as if trapped in perverse agony rather than the powerful throes of sheer lust again. Utterly immersed by their perfectly fine tuned co-ordination of calm and concentrated movements, as if one most satisfied body and joined mind, he eventually gets locked into a permanent state of most intense arousal.

With his head pressed back and to the left side, he suddenly falls all paralysed again. But this time he is caught in the heightened flow of his very own neural pathways on fire, being exposed to the most powerful electrical current flowing throughout his entire body matrix, on her every deliberate and extremely powerful touch. His limbs starting to twitch at the constant and glowing flow, of his every wholly over-stimulated nerves, they permanently discharge at his very toes and fingertips and top of his skull, burning with the intense pleasure. His every completely overpowered neural pathway driving him into further ecstatic tension, his relays running hotter by the minute, it lays utter waste to any normal function of his entirely over-tuned system.

Remembering hazily having felt like that before in a similar form, when he deliberately had to step into the actual path of pure energy, he was hit by a violent electrical charge many years ago to break the flow with his very body. Left unaffected otherwise, if greatly shocked and dazed, it had saved the old _Enterprise D_ once more from total destruction caught in a near fatal disaster. Yet now it is of indeed purely erotic upsurge, nearly driving him insane with the unbelievable pleasures it causes, and the ever more fading thoughts concerning his very life on that very ship, so destroyed a mere two years ago. Or even about his presence on this current one, with still not one of her hundreds of officers set out to look for him.

As he drifts from one elated high and rupturing low into the next ever greater elevation and even more stimulating drop, his human skin becomes hot and dewy with the extremely humid warmth surrounding them, and the constantly pulsating waves raging through his entirely ablaze system, in ever more exhilarating and exceptionally gratifying excitement, at her very own no lesser intense satisfaction. After half a dozen times of his near climactic resolution, and many minutes of extremest arousal of her intense pleasuring him, she can feel the next intense shockwave of more ecstatic pleasures would push him right into his last fulfilment.

Getting ever more delirious and uncontrolled, licking his own lower lip suddenly from corner to corner, tossing his head from side to side, he is shuddering under her relentless actions, nearly breaking in half if he could. At his repetitive arching his entire torso, his skull grating against the deck once descending again, his ever more vocal panting is rising. Yet he only whispers for more in fading gasps of ever growing desires, sounding more as if lying in the grim shackles of renewed torture, rather than extraordinary realms of sexual pleasures never known to him. Similar as to before, when he struggled against her now all but wanted touch, she resorts to finally unite with him, in her own open lust for him for their orgasmic finale.

Hardly able to recover from his last sudden plunge into ever more exhilarating ecstasy, nearly syncopating with all his inner workings literally running excessively hot by then, and if he had a literal heart would burst it at the ever increasing pace. Sliding up his trembling pelvis throbbing with the unbelievable intensity of her sensual manipulation already, both couple in even greater and louder groaning arousal, and he arches up again in overpowered reaction to her warm womanhood, causing him to flick out his fingers again with sheer lust tossing back his head again with open wet lips.

Clasping for his neck with both hands to pull him even closer to herself, for him to sit up as she slings her legs around him, she remains all but still with him deep inside her, and he instantly clutches around her back to hold her enclosed, never wanting to feel her so extraordinary presence amiss. Sighing into the other's open lips of sheer trust, and most pleasurable exchange of physical closeness, he glares into her fiery eyes half dazed by her so potent and affectionate caresses, and ever so desirable body.

Sensing her every sensual impulse rushing through his own highly electrified neural pathways, searing through his wet limbs to the tip of his manhood, his lost thoughts all but blank out suddenly. Where nothing counts at this most passionate moment anymore, bar their unified pleasures, nothing around them is real except their physical contact, as only this closeness two souls can ever share he never could gain so far. No matter how many she must have encountered that way perhaps, while she equally hungrily for it drinks his every so exiting sigh.

Right now, he would not care about that, nobody or anything, bar himself in her very sensuous embrace. With no one else to be around, as only the oblivious drones all in their alcoves regenerating, not one soul bar herself is interested in his unsure fate, or even his friends ever trying to recover him. Not even thinking they might have been taken or killed already themselves, since none of them ever ended up assimilated to his view, no ethical challenge is thus left to be taken up, no moral dilemma remains to be resolved to see to them survive, as only himself at this magical moment.

Or even see to his personal desires never to be stifled again, as only his own physical liberation realised, and his emotional growth to bear final fruits and sensation once more. This time in the overwhelming depths of the enemy Borg hive, and not only Lore's Borg compound and his very own arms. With the strangely soothing and calmly hushed humming of the technical reality all around them, lost in the extremely humid condition, all lies painted over by the velvety darkness engulfing them, with vivid shades of cool cobalt and calming emerald dotted all about. Feeling like floating inside a protective womb, he deems himself safe and loved.

Curling his luscious lips to kiss her again eagerly wanting ever more, she would give him ever more in return. Holding him close with her slim fingers running through his dewy hair, he presses his left thumb to the small of her neck, and she finally starts to move back and forth over his hot pelvis, to resume her final act of binding him to her blissful temple of corporeal love. Never letting go of her again, never thinking she could not be his from hereon, he raises his chin in opening his shining gilded lips.

Laying bare his pearly whites glistering in the subdued lights like twinkling stars in the black nights, he offers them in renewed and ever insatiable hunger for her every bearing down on him. Losing himself in the mesmerising spell of their most passionate and closest moment caught inside their exquisite carnal lust, their unspoken bond is to defy the no lesser grave implications, reaching far beyond their own physical and mental realities.

As they near their goal of final sexual fulfilment, she reaches first into her own climactic zenith of sensual pleasure, throwing back her head in extremest satisfaction, tensing up so hard nearly braking in two, and he can feel her every muscle contracting within herself. Clawing into his neck with loud bursts of vocal gasping, as if being tortured by the most sadistic of ripping sensations, she ejaculates her tears from paradise. With her every searing fibre alight to discharge within her every electrified nerves, sending only more intense shockwaves of hers throughout his very own trembling body, Data gets pulled right into his very own orgasmic release, at the totally different friction her womanly fluids cause, closely following her sudden and most powerful pinnacle of sheer lust fulfilled.

Stimulating his own even more so, at her most unusual sexual reaction, he finally bursts into his own loud release of the most unbelievable electrical sensation topping any of before, and she pushes him down on the deck again as he arches up violently, and finally climaxes hard in flicking out his fingers again into the sharp shapes. Clamping her legs astride, he tosses his head again from side to side, loudly gasping with his tongue running along his lower lip again, with his face grimacing into spasms of fevered pleasures. Still moving rapidly up and down on him to climax again, still raising his own exploding orgasm, both are utterly delirious with the endless waves of their every nerve aflame.

The Queen clawing into his chest drowning inside his own groaning gratification, she lies herself over him in their very slowing bursts of panting and paroxysmal release entirely exhausted, after their most passionate sexual act. Both utterly exhausted, lying together in irregular convulsions of their highly sensitised nerve impulses, still rushing through their entire limbs like all-consuming wildfire, still crawling along their wet and hot now fully satisfied skin, still discharging through every little hair and fingertip, still caught in their united experience of most exquisite sensual pleasures, she after long slips from him slowly, and Data drifts into a last gasping shudder of gradually fading pleasure.

With his near delusional head all foggy with the most delirious splendour, Data is losing all lucidity of fading thought, while she just lies with him in united peace as long as it will last, at both their no less utterly impossible situation. Lightly brushing over his burning skin, both still breathing fast and deeply, she brings her caressing hand to his quivering lips, to let him taste her uniquely warm flavour. Greedily licking on her fingers to fully experience her, he takes in her full exquisite sexual scent. Never opening his eyes as only lie there in utter contentment, licking his wet lips never to forget her erotic perfume, his face and limbs slowly relax, and he starts swooning at the sudden numbness encompassing the entire surface of his moist skin as if drifting into sleep.

Just so at the very obscure threshold to cross over, when not sensing any corporeal reality of his entire existence anymore, and everything is completely blotted out at that most ecstatic plane stage. Breathing into his last fading sighs, with his right arm and hand locked into an upright position, and his thumb as sharply angled as never before, his other hand is still cramping into her very back. Not letting go of her for his most enjoyable experience, he is drifting in and out of the irregular electrical impulses emanating from his very glans, still shooting through his entirely overpowered body, still discharging at his very fingertips, in ever slowing and lesser phases. As he suddenly just falls all quiet altogether, that soothing sleep has finally claimed his every receptive sense and Data stops moving all together.

With his eyes still semi closed and delectable lips parted, Data has syncopated eventually at the too overpowering orgasm any man can ever achieve, finally overwhelming his every excessively overcome neural relays, and his positronic matrix is collapsing into a final shutdown, at the literal shock to his entire system, never having been programmed to process nor exceed any of these so extreme sensual sensations. While all lubricate matter has been depleted at that to even activate one tiny servo, the excessive state of electrical impulses wreak sheer havoc with his vital biofunctions besides.

As he just lies there as if having peacefully died suddenly, she kisses his still ever so alluring lips, slips her hand down to his now fully decreased manhood, with a last tender stroke over it and a most pleased gasp and smile, and then fingers for his uniform to zip it up to his ribcage, to preserve his dignity. Running her fingers through his damp hair again with almost loving affection, he can not even feel her last touch fallen insentient. Brushing over his golden thread eyelids to gently close them fully, she whispers into his open and never lesser appealing lips caressing them tenderly, even if he might not hear or sense her anymore.

"We will proceed now with your transformation Data – just a short while longer and you will be all you ever desired. I shall keep you oblivious again so you won't feel anything, and can recover from your great exertion, to finally become one with us completely, and then take your rightful place by my side… forever…"

With no response coming from him as it stands, she brushes her left hand over his right temple, and literally sends him into the realm of true oblivion with a mere blink, his right arm slowly drops to the deck, and his left hand loosens from her back to fall aside. Summoning forth four of the regenerating Borg on her silent command from their alcoves all around, having been kept asleep to safeguard their most intimate privacy, they step closer as she gets up collecting her gloves to put them back on. Scooping him up like pallbearers, his head drops back into a servo lock with a loud snap, and Data looks as if having serenely asleep.

The table being reactivated to position itself level with the deck again, they bring him over to lay him down with his loose uniform spread out underneath him. Proceeding with their surgical transformation, with other Borg resuming their univocal tasks, they will turn her latest conquest into a full Human. For Data to be able to feel her forever.

17


	5. Chapter 4 The Doubts & Death

The Doubts & Death--------------------------------------------------

As the lair of the hive lies all quiet and still as dark and humid as before after several more hours, Data has been greatly seen to, and is brought another significant stage closer to his most remarkable change. Fully dressed again, still lying on the apparatus, still held completely unaware, the Borg Queen is holding her silent scrutiny over their skilled craft, and Data's left hand guarding his every step closer to his sought after Humanity. This now even visible in the very face of his own creator's own image, as half of Data's countenance is now covered with more live skin, the entire left side of his face is looking a normal pinkish patch of human skin. With a dark brow and full black lashes, eyes closed still, his hair curled into softer crescents.

All the while more combatant activities of the hive indeed have as well seen to the rest of the crew besides, still battling them for the complete takeover of the _Enterprise_, they are attempting to establish an external link with other parts of the collective within the quadrant, but are no less disrupted by her very Captain's direct interference. With their intent to erect a beacon on the ship's giant deflector dish, this has just been all but foiled, and she can sense the futile endeavours of her outsmarted drones, now all lost into space. Not at all amused about that setback, she looks up most displeased, and back at Data still unconscious.

"We've had a change of plans Data," she says more to herself, while the drones keep working their scalpel magic on him.

Wanting however to secure her most precious possession at this moment, she waves the drones to cease their surgery for the while, and as they retreat to find other duties or return to their alcoves, she touches for the very object of desire in Data, and his right temple again, and he literally wakes him by a mere blink of her powerful will. As he rouses at once, opening his eyes, of which his left one is now suddenly all but of normal human appearance with a clear iris as azure, the other is still golden. Both turning instantly black at her close sight in renewed and utterly involuntary reaction to her ever desired presence.

Now left with his unburdened mind all brought back into lucid order, and his recuperated body near fully restored, he looks at her leaning over him closely. Feeling his hand in hers, to be lying on the table again, yet unbound and in no more pain or imminent danger, Data waits for her to speak, biding his extraordinary transformation in near untouched acceptance. Almost unable to raise a more precise thought or still heavy limb. Or perhaps not.

"We're almost finished with your transformation Data, just a few more patches and you will be fully human in appearance," she explains softly. "Half of your face and other small parts are still left to be seen to, everything else is covered with your very own skin forever and integrated into your sensory system. I want you to regenerate now, while I have to see to other matters. Soon all this will be over and we can attend to our own future – Go now, your time to connect with the hive has arrived, Data."

Data acknowledging this with a faint nod, he gets up to put his feet down the deck. Releasing his still golden coloured hand, tenderly stroking his all but human face, he can feel it to react to it as never before, to her warm and gentle caress. Closing his eyes again in full want of ever more, gazing at her again, and her genuinely affectionate smile withdrawing her fingers, she runs them over his ever so alluring lips. While he drinks more of her sensual touch, he willingly turns to a designated alcove on her nodding smile, knowing exactly what he is doing.

Take his rightful place amongst the other drones, seemingly already greatly assimilated far beyond his most amazing physical change. At his peculiarly dispassionate detachment suddenly, despite the fact that his emotion chip is still as active as before for his reaction to her ever-wanted touch, and nothing subversive seems to interfere with his very body. Yet he appears incongruously casual in his every move, and temperate setting of his excessively composed mind, even more so than usual without his emotions even activated. Reset itself to the dangerous still before the deadly storm.

Data moving all markedly slowly, as if sleepwalking his every dragging step into place, in contrast as to the most emotive and animated manners in which he has acted before or during his orgasmic experience, and near complete change, he is still drained excessively and seemingly very slow to recover after his severe complete system crash.

Or has already forgotten the exquisite pleasures tasted besides. Or even his very own reality, now ever more so bizarrely contorted this very moment. Yet, as he catches his own reflection in one of the black monitor panels, he stops as if waking up from a vague phantasm again. Realising suddenly that his face has changed in looks as well, he slowly goes over to have a closer look, not having seen its remarkable transformation yet.

The Borg Queen watching him gazing upon his new appearance, visibly all but awestruck once more, she steps beside him. As he carefully touches for his now human half, the tactile soft skin of no doubt someone's own face once, he yet can not find himself feeling repulsed at the macabre thought of such stunning result alone, only standing there all spellbound suddenly. Seeing the very same clear blue eye, he saw once before in his own father's face, even at his so high an age when they had last met so many years ago, he has not even any inkling if he might still be alive. Or indeed not yet, or ever, for their totally altered timeline.

Lore had reappeared then as well, at his secret lab, and all he remembers now is that everything just went wrong again, with him stealing his emotion chip their father had made for him. When he had summoned him there to receive it, after he once more had been forced to act against his conscious will, through the homing device in his skull overriding all his cognitive functions. To literally sleepwalk himself there, causing immense hassle to the crew besides.

By inadvertently stealing the very ship to even get there, utterly unaware he ever had committed such shameful act, while Lore accidentally had been called as well, when they had believed him dead. To his great surprise, after he was forced just the same to send his troublesome brother into literal space years earlier, for his attempt to destroy that very ship and her entire crew, and had caused near fatal trouble at his badly twisted emotions. The Lore of his own most unpredictable fate.

Then Lore had switching him off again to take his place to achieve all that, and nearly killed their father, once pushed over the very edge, with the emotion chip causing further malfunction not designed for his circuitry attacking him. Before vanishing from the scene of crime, only to reappear years later with his own Borg of all things. Then Lore had summoned Data just the same against his will, by subversive emotion control, only to cause added grief to many.

All the more amazed now at the curious fact, as to how many times he was forced to actually act against his own free will, or even at times never even had noticed to have been 'possessed' again, until returned to normal, he was mainly targeted so for his so unique construct. Gazing on this rather attractive human face half, not his and yet all his own, all he sees is his younger father suddenly, he only once saw like that in a dream bizarrely enough. As a symbolic vision in addition. After another accidental plasma shock had hit him, and triggered his unknown dream program, telling him to be as free as bird. When yet he never really was free.

Yet right now, his father would not even be alive either, unless there is a parallel reality identical to his lost future, and all Data ever has been. Which was bound to this ship, and her crew still fighting out there no doubt, and does not even exist yet either. Thinking of it, Data suddenly is not even sure anymore what he is doing on her at all at this stage. What was the point, to die or fight for something that will not ever come to be? This vessel or his own lost existence, and no future, except the potential outlook to go with her.

Getting greatly confused again, he turns away as if revolted suddenly by his own split image, not yet fully human and not fully android nature anymore. The rest of him already near entirely transformed, it all but lies out of literal sight and has no direct meaning. Yet his contradictive features all but suddenly cause him to struggle, to literally face himself, as his split personality fear takes over all of a sudden, which he had to deal with so often.

Turning to her, he feels torn more than ever suddenly, literally not only in appearance but screaming soul, his whole beleaguered life ripped in two now visually as well, unlike merely in emotions before to trust her or not, stay with the ever more complex situation or not. But now it all is suddenly even made literal flesh, far beyond his sexual body, seeing only the human side he always desired. Yet he has to stay with the cybernetic side for his ever-dominating vocation, and finds it hard to accept either, or reject neither, yet can not ever truly combine them in any form.

The Queen sensing his inner turmoil rising again, she decides to take the next step for him. As he looks like running away all of a sudden, yet not knowing where to, no less from himself rather than her, or even the bizarre situation fully in hand, she addresses him calmly and considerately gazing into his suddenly again so pleading eyes. Either one of them, the desired human and the familiar android side of him, clinging to her every breath. Yet if either is of genuine helplessness, would be for her to find out. Or not.

"Once you are connected to the hive, all your worries and doubts will be gone Data – none of this is real remember?" she reminds him. "This is the past of your future that will never be, you have no responsibilities to take for this ship or your crewmembers anymore from hereon. None of them have even attempted to rescue you, and not only for my own efforts, Data. They hoped you were not assimilated fully but mercifully dead, yet spared no more thought for you ever since you were taken," she states bluntly to what is a grim truth. "I can hear them all, your Captain has deserted you, your present friends have all deserted you, you owe them nothing, Data"

"You're your own master now, and will be by my side, as a free mind within the hive. You will be able to do whatever you wanted," she assures him with a most genuine voice. "I will not impose anything on you, you're my equal and not just another drone. Your very own Captain has refused me years ago, the very same who has not made one attempt to save you, Data. Who is only obsessed by his thoughts of hating me as I speak, yet spares none for you in my very hands, who had saved him from my very clutches then."

"There's no need for me to lie to you, Data, he will not come for you. Yet could walk right in here to retrieve his Second Officer even without a fight, who had saved his crew dozens of times besides, you owe him nothing, Data, nothing," she repeats to persuade him. "Take your rightful place now, and none of this will be important anymore – the past and future will not exist the way you remember it. The time has come to create your very own now, with me Data… now."

Still gazing at her ever so seductive presence, and all the more tempting and no doubt terribly true words, he finally nods at her once. As if having given up on it all suddenly altogether himself, and truly has made up his mind to join her for good now. Finally persuaded, his pleading dissolved at his apparently deserted state, she caresses his lips once more, and he turns to take his place for now. Waiting for him to step up inside the alcove to face her, she raises the translucent greenish forcefield again by mere will. To at last gain total access and success against her enemies, see him finally become literal and fully integrated, and all the more most fundamental part of the entire Borg collective.

Retreating to recuperate herself, the few drones left go about their individual tasks, as others regenerate alongside him. Data now standing there with open eyes trapped behind the forcefield at his full knowledge, and not presented with the distracting reality of his altered appearance, his apparently again calmer thoughts start to wander into darker realms once more.

Mostly concerning the unbelievable fact, that it has been many hours now since his unfortunate capture, and yet still no one ever attempted once to retrieve him in any form, or even tried to beam him away. No forceful effort had been undertaken to break into Engineering, which is not even sealed off to be needed to get stormed, and anyone could just wander inside it seems. Left with no signs of any contact whatsoever, he has no idea if anyone is still intent on carrying out their actual idea to destroy the hive.

Believing her the incredible words, he suddenly feels even more terribly wounded at these facts, mulling over what had he done wrong perhaps, to deserve their all desertion of him like this in his greatest hour of need, while they are still alive and could even just walk in here. Or maybe they would expect him to tare care of the given issues all on his own, no less he could, but would, when he simply has no inkling if they were even still alive once he might succeed, or indeed not.

Again getting utterly confused, his finally collapsing mind starts wandering uncontrollably. Until at length, he can even hear the other drones suddenly, all their very own thoughts, their calm and literally collected minds. Not merely a drowned mass of incoherent awareness inside their own. As he is slowly drifting into their one, strong and ordered consciousness, he becomes part of their collective mind, and is finally lost to those who have long deserted him.

As the hive starts fading within his own still troubled thoughts, drifting into this vague sleep again, muffled over by his relentless reflections, he tries to think of the past that will never even be. What he has seen, experienced and done, which now appears all so meaningless suddenly. Remembering his close friends, he seems to mean nothing to suddenly either, he can even feel some of them, to be still alive and unharmed. Right out there, so close within this very ship. But why would they not come for him? The ship's computer was still save from being code cracked, he had not been assimilated fully yet, nor declared lost in action or even dead, his mind is still all his own – So why would they not even, think, of him?

Trying not to despair over this unbelievable fact, not understanding why he is blotted from their minds ever since he was captured at that, not even Picard seems to spare him one little thought. The one he had always looked up to, he had sought for vital advice. The one who had not even let him express his new feelings, once furnished with his rightful emotion chip, as only commanded him to get on with it. As once at Stellar Cartography, after the horrible experience of facing that paralysing fear and unbearable guilt, when he was left at the brutal hands of that lunatic Soren.

Who had even tortured his best friend Geordi, and whom he had failed so terribly then only two years back now, just before they eventually crashed, and all Picard did was tell him off, leave him to his great pain and overwhelming doubts. That so at his only once even pleading to help him, to come to terms with his so confusing and disturbing emotions, while he coldly ordered him to 'integrate' them.

Not even in good time utterly unfamiliar with them, and all he achieved was to delude himself to be able to handle them later. When that was never the case, at his sheer lack of first-hand knowledge even to compare them, concerning all theses infinitely more confusing issues of such complex emotional matters, to draw from them to even understand their deeper meaning in the first place. How dare he even order his emotions about.

Why indeed should he owe him anything now – he had even let him down several times gravely before that, when he had needed his imperative support the most, no less Counsellor Troi had sometimes given him, no matter her specified job aboard, and then never even promoted him once, but her, after all he ever had done far beyond the call of duty or anyone else's at that.

When everyone else seems to have become 'Commander', even her, at not the slightest merits either. Or at least in relative comparison to his own ever invaluable contributions, while he had saved them all by the dozen plus times than they all combined, only ever receiving a nice, 'Thank you Mr Data', 'Nicely done', 'Until next time 'Commander'', he not even fully is.

Or hear them say, 'Go away Data, you talk too much Data', 'Stop clowning around Data', 'You get on our nerves Data', 'Thank you not now Data', 'Stop laughing now Data'. Or every time he behaved like them, he was 'reprimanded' for nothing, even by Geordi eventually, he had thought would be the one to understand him better. But all he ever received was, 'You bad bad Data you', 'Get your act together Data!' 'You're malfunctioning again Data!' 'You're confined to your quarters Commander!' 'Fix' him Geordi!' 'We need him now Geordi, _now_!'

Needed him indeed – when all he ever had done was to look out for them anyhow, as his very first ever duty and sole priority as respected Starfleet officer, or they would have perished during their very first missions already. And he even carried a secret of no less bizarre events, which nearly had cost him his very position or even life, and Starfleet would have stripped him down to his last wire, again. Which had saved them only once more no one even knows about, at his solemn promise never to tell, on even Picard's very own orders, yet never gave him another well-deserved rank pip for any of it.

And no doubt merely for his android nature, or even command of his own he could handle with his literal left alone. Bar once, and that ended in ugly discrimination and even had to beg for to begin with. At Picard's total disregard for his so long a blemish-free record, when all others hardly had his service time besides, bar Picard who also had a few black spots on his own officer's vest.

Which only once more had helped them to outsmart the confounded Romulans then by his clever resort as temporary captain on the _Sutherland_. Just as neither had any of his invaluable skills and unsurpassed knowledge, none of them could ever attain, he but did not even rub into their human faces. He knew they valued him for his vital assistance, but surely only ever missed out on better attention or higher position, because he was an android, expendable and of not much interest to even think of right now so much was sure.

With his deeply hurt feelings so drifting into sheer embittered tears again suddenly, he starts to hate everything and everyone around him suddenly, after even Riker had not chosen him as his first in command, when Picard had been captured by the damned Borg and took captaincy himself. But put this arrogant and over-ambitious poison Shelby into his rightful place, an utter outsider at that. Who would have taken his chair, command and the flagship herself in an instant.

Just because he had no 'ambitions' for a promotion, at everyone's ever fallible beliefs that was fact. 'Needed' him to save their Captain again, just because he never said a word to defend himself better and demand his perfect rights. But even when he did, was still ignored, or because he never had any true emotions to draw on at the beginning, to feel hurt having been overlooked once more in the first place, and simply could be treated that thoughtless way at not much opposition.

He owes them nothing, she is right – bar his golden tears alone, at their obvious disloyalty. Since they could even just simply lock on to his active combadge signal at any time, even telling them he is still alive besides at its active readings of even his 'vitals', and simply beam him away. Even through this forcefield right now, or all this time before during all the many hours. Or any of the crew not fully assimilated yet.

God thanks however not at a later stage, when they both were engaged 'otherwise', which night have proven a bit more embarrassing, but the entire period prior or after. Yet not the slightest attempt, nothing, or to establish his at least command officer status, which is no less regulation, and had failed him often enough before at their sheer ignorance, if not even do it for their friend.

That fact alone is hitting him as painfully hard all the more now, since surely no forcefield the Borg might have installed, he could not even detect otherwise, would shield them to block neither the ship's powerful sensors nor a site-to-site transporter lock, to even try once to get him out of here. No, he clearly remembers his combadge chirped up when he tried to call for help, right on his initial battle with the vicious drones, and subsequent misfortunate capture when he failed to speak up suddenly, with his battered system locking into sudden shutdown. No, they simply had and have no interest in his fate whatsoever.

Or they might even think the very same of him, and to have joined her already fully, betrayed them. And why not, she is ever more considerate to him than the rest of them put together right now, no matter she wanted the codes primarily, could turn against him any second, take over the ship and use his all-round greater powers against them, even if she offered him to be her equal. So why not let her finish her intend either way, while they would not even think of him, unlike her, and right now he would not even care, if she would succeed to annihilate them.

Assimilate them, turn them all into mindless drones doing her sole bidding, maybe even his own. Would serve them right after all he did for them, and then he could play Borg leader himself like Lore had. Lore even had given his Borg a free will and true passion, in contrast to his own brother, true, and only controlled negative feelings, but no matter he made him his perverted emotion junkie then, he should have let him succeed really. Or even kill his own Captain and best friend Geordi, everyone in sight, and destroy the Federation indeed!

With his ever more troubled thoughts running violently amok all the more now, he is writhing in deepest hurt, and feels torn right down the middle of his entire existence. How terribly bitter are these most desperate sentiments no doubt, tearing on his every open neural relay, plaguing him all the more in return now.

Just as gripping doubts are seizing his every memory circuit ever more fiercely, he recalls suddenly that he once had felt just like that years back. When he was afraid to lose his very mind, during a diagnostic check with Geordi by his side, after the entire D'Arsay array culture had all of a sudden taken possession of his every byte of sane conscience, and his own free will was cut off at once, another time.

And he remembers clearly, the last plaintive words leaving his fearful lips, asking Geordi how it feels, when a person goes, insane. Just before the many entities overrode his entire matrix, and he was thrown once more mercilessly into new aggressive acts, with alien thoughts not his own. Playing literal god and even willing victim to another, an old man and some other character, only to die along with them all, and he was utterly unaware of his own lost reality of a mere one against countless other ancient souls.

Just like his brother had done it to him shortly before, and it had scared him out of his every wits for being used, once more, against his own wishes, only to lose the futile fight against any of them, all over again. Just like Lore had lost his own stand finally in turn, or mainly against Starfleet having brought him down, executed by his very own hands.

Lore! No! She could never know about him still being right here aboard! If found and reassembled, he would instantly take command again, and join her in a blink of an infatuated eye! No! He could not allow his so dominant brother to rival him over her, no! She would no doubt want him just the same! No not Lore, no!

Suddenly he finds the thought of picturing him in her arms utterly intolerable, or even imagine her do what she did to him, no! He is hers alone, no! Not his ever-troublesome brother, no! He would lose out against him no doubt again, he always had, no! Jealousy! Sheer human jealousy does possess him suddenly in his utterly confused state!

Searing jealousy gripping him now, he only can remember once having felt like that not even in his own right mind, again, many years ago now, when he had been literally possessed by this dying, utterly lovesick scientist Ira Graves, who recognised his unique construct and could just outsmart and shut him down. Then still so naïve and ever-trusting, to literally upload all his powerful own mind into his positronic brain.

To take instant control and his free will and mind away from him, become Picard's rival of all, over his own assistant left behind and on the ship then. Possessed by sheer jealousy burning in his mind then, it was close to his own destruction again, and his personal shame either way. Why was it that he always seemed to have been targeted like that? For his biocybernetic and technical nature alone as the perfect object to be taken over indeed.

But no, he could not let Lore fall into her literal hands not ever, not even if neither had any carnal interest in the other, he greatly doubts at this moment would never arise, at his own still insatiable want for her. Just like she would never let him become a mere drone at his equally powerful construct, and all the more passionate body and infinitely more charismatic ways and cunning mind, that so much was true either way.

Even if neither had any intent in engaging into this side of their inevitable alliance, not cast him aside in the course, they both would be regarded equal in her hive, and she would keep him as her only love interest over Lore. But by that, she would only gain twice his own eminent and unsurpassed powers. No, she could never be allowed to find him.

Or Lal! No, not his own daughter either! No matter she had died many away years ago now, and is equally gone, but she too is still aboard right now, and they no doubt might find a way to reactivate her, even repair her collapsed matrix. If not even try himself to restore her, by sheer wish to bring her back at some point in this new and unclear future, only for her to gain another Soong-type android with the capability of full emotions herself. No not Lal, no, she must stay oblivious to this horridly altered past! It is impossible for her to become part of this Borg madness! Over his dead body, no! Not Lal, no matter insentient and sadly gone, but not his beloved Lal.

Thinking of her suddenly, sheer grief seizes his heart he does not even possess, over the terrible loss he could not even feel then, as only suffer touched thoughts after she had died away from under his very hands, and has reflected on her many times since then. Even cried over her grim loss when he could, and no one ever knew about that either. None of those still out there, the ones he can suddenly hear talking, well defined in his all too ravaged mind now, able to clearly recognise their engaged voices.

Which strikes him less as dramatic, as the very fact of what they are saying, if not Riker or Geordi and Troi, apparently still not back aboard. But he can clearly understand Dr Crusher, along with plenty others and Worf, including this Earth woman they had saved, and the Captain of course. Who just has called for autodestruct!?

In fifteen minutes! How did this happen!? Where did he fail to notice the part to convince him to even carry out this order in the first place? And who did persuade him to give up his precious ship!? It simply could not be!

That was it – all his distorted and self-pitying mulling has made him miss the important part, where they must have considered it to begin with. Suddenly it is done and all his plagued thoughts are moot in an instant, he is dead already. No, it simply could not be! They call for the ship to self-destruct, and he is still on board!? Alive, and not a threat to either side all but leaving him behind to get killed!?

Do they believe him really dead or assimilated and lost? Would they think to need to destroy him as well besides? What about their intent to annihilate the hive by the coolant, was that not their initial objective? Why did he stay to try to achieve that at some point, if they would just abandon the vessel suddenly? Do they think he has failed and simply need to obliterate everything, even with him still aboard no matter in which form or state or mind!?

And they _really_ do not even talk about him, or at last think of his unsure fate even just then, as all he can hear is Dr Crusher musing over the damned _Enterprise __**E**_, if they would build a new one. Which is utter nonsense besides, at the yet non-existent technology at that point three hundred and ten years back, to even construct one, which is simply not feasible.

And he can even hear Picard mumble back, that he has barely known her, when he had known Data for so many more years now, and then only says, that there are plenty more letters left in the alphabet to build a new one. What for!? This one would never be built in the first place, let alone a new one!!

Sure, why not create a new Data too, he seems expendable! How could they not even retrieve his perfectly useful brother, or his beloved daughter beforehand, to even attempt to restore her, or even try to start again with Lore perhaps by that to preserve his legacy? Is wholly functional Lore of even lesser concern than himself?

Could Lore not be considered to replace him then somehow? Surely he can be 'fixed' like himself so often, to be less a threat, and made to become him to help them in this bleak future perhaps? Or just simply to be alive as Lore? Geordi could help him. Is Lore not as precious an invaluable construct than his lost officer brother? Is the great Soong legacy of no interest suddenly anymore at all, to just destroy all of them too?

But no, all they would do is fear Lore to play Borg leader again, and no less he even might and take her place, when they are not even aware of her to be still alive, having survived the destruction of the Borg cube all these years back, and would declare himself Borg king at his own ambitious ideas. Yet was what he did truly all that insane, only wanting to recreate what he was made to be in the first place? When their father had achieved exactly that, at the mere extraordinary existence of them both, technological lifeforms made to the highest standards?

Capable of so much more than any Human, and while their father was considered a no less rightful genius. But no, Lore was only hunted down and even literally destroyed once more, even by himself. No matter forced to do so in self-defence, all in the name of the confounded Federation, which does not even exist right now, and all he can hear suddenly, is Lore's plaintive voice saying when he had to terminate him lying all incapacitated, that he, loved him… Forgive me Lore, my only brother.

Outright traumatised by now, Data's totally shocked and traumatised mind is running amok in absolute and dangerous overload, into lost directions that do not even exist, nearly tearing himself apart in the process. Unable to even move to vent his ever more maddening and disturbed thoughts, just like before under her very control, he is immobilised now in utterly pointlessly altered body, just like his pitiful brother was then. With his distressed mind driving him insane, hopefully before the massive ship would just smithereen his entire existence into a mega flash, he would never even be aware of it, gone mercifully insane, like so many times before when having been possessed by some powerful entity.

Now this usually scary state however, seems to be of so much more desirable preference suddenly. If only he could even make it real, if only he could just switch himself off, if only his overpowered system would just simply crash again. Or at least be able to deactivate his killing emotions, and face the inevitable all utterly untouched – How blissful a merciful and last soothing sentiment that would be, just to make it easier on his cracking mind, to face the grim ultimate no doubt on his very own. If she will not ever interfere.

It is all over – he is dead already and still alive. How cruel to even need to await its no doubt horrible form, at not the slightest chance to even attempt to fight it. With all his grievous emotions on a riot descent, it would just feel like an unnecessary sacrifice, for absolutely nothing and no one. To end up blown to literal bits by the many detonation ordnance packs placed throughout the ship, which in turn would simply tear and vaporise the entire structure, for the incredible thermal and mechanical shock the ship would undergo, and all would be blasted into millions of fragments all at the same time, by the deliberate release of the warp engines reactants.

And he is right there at the warp core itself feeding them, until he would not even be aware anymore once obliterated, hopefully fast and painlessly. For the total supply of antimatter storage to be expelled simultaneously, to produce an energy release on the order of a thousand photon torpedoes, which would cause the entire vessel to simply supernova in an endless chain reaction, with him right in the very centre matrix.

What most horrid an infernal and final vision, this suddenly looming nemesis of most grisly an end to his so short life he would need take to his very, early grave is, and that not even to save the others by his sacrifice – Feeling like a horrid and gloomy black vision of the doomed future, it misfortunately will never be devouring his already dying thoughts mercifully, not to suffer any of it, and Data suddenly falls all quiet at the grim prospective.

This is not what he desires, not alone, not like this all deserted, unable to even close his eyes not to see the prolonging horror about to engulf him. And then he even has to listen to Picard saying to Worf right now, that he regrets some of what he has said to him earlier, and hears Worf's indignant reply of, 'some'? And then even, that his own Captain believes, 'him' to be one of the bravest men he has ever known, but not ever one little thought expressed to reflect on his Second Officer by that. Not even once his one single name by either of them!

Is Data not the bravest man at this very moment? Is Data not the bravest he should ever think of at least right now? Is Data not excellent or professional enough to be considered, 'brave', no matter his superior design allowing him to be? Just because Data is a thinking, 'machine'? All tech and no soul that can simply be destroyed, like this suddenly just as expendable ship? Which is even made of the very same components as his very own shell? But indeed it is not 'alive' at all either!

All his defeated fellow crew are simply surrendering her now, while he was thinking during all the most horrible and ever more truly breathtaking time, to preserve their magnificent vessel, his only ever home he knew? Why had they decided on the plan to destroy the Borg with the plasma coolant, and now abandon it, when he is there so close to it right now? Would they really believe him dead and gone? Spare no more thought on their good friend, and irreplaceable fellow officer for that? Why would they not even feel sorrow over his apparent loss then? How could they not ever know he is still alive, when he can even hear them talk right now? But not once about him?

His friend Geordi is not yet back aboard, who might want to remind them? Or Riker even if duly for his duty's sake only, which he no less always had followed conscientiously, and perhaps all the more caring Troi trying to help establish his unsure situation? But they are no doubt still engaged with the warp rocket down on Earth, save away already, and never would return now, never knowing what grim drama is unfolding right here.

That was it – he was dead to them already, why not just kill him off for good even in construct, he seems to be merely now, a soulless 'android'! Surely they are aware he is still alive? And even if not, not one of them just was thinking of him still!? Did he mean that little to them!?

Unable to control the ever more bitter reflection chaos running riot inside his by then utterly consternated mind, Data seems to lose all grip on his now again differently assaulted nerves. Drifting from one emotional ugly colour into the next, he is mixing it all into a truly abhorrent picture, of his current state of utterly lost soul. Why is she still here? Why would she not take flight? Or even along with him the least if not all her drones? What is she waiting for? Surely she knows?

Maybe he should have ended it all long before he even got involved with her, even at his own demise the moment she started to seduce him, not ever to regret what he now can not even contemplate anymore. But no, not ever would he want to miss her so exhilarating touch, at least to take her, to him precious memories with him right now, to make it all easier to die, along with her if need be, even if not together. Just like she might think of him too right now, unlike them out there so close. But then again, they never even thought of him so far, when he could have given up his android ghost hours ago already – how could Picard do this to him?

How can you desert me like this? Captain? – "_Captain_!"

Shouting out his name in his utterly despondent mind, in a last plaintive attempt to be heard, he suddenly calls out for him. Not ever in hope he could literally hear him, even though Picard no doubt would perceive the other drones, he was still connected with their minds somehow, the very Borg hive hissing inside his own, once an integrated part of it. Which had made him kill so many of his own, when he was forced to attack his fellow crew as Locutus of Borg indeed, and thousands perished under his very eyes, not even in his own mind either then.

Maybe she would force him to do the same? But she has said not to become a mere collective drone, as stay a free mind, free desired body and free immortal soul by her very side, he still would not want to miss. But what is all that futile thinking even good for anymore, it is all over. And then perhaps, she might just as well pick up on his own forlorn thoughts right now, his drowning voice inside the calm hive, his desperate voice to he heard, to end this utter madness growing ever more unbearable, somehow. But no, only a few more minutes now, and it all would make no difference anymore at any rate.

Just let the autodestruct sequence complete, and he would be done as well, hopefully without any much physical pain or more horrible mental distress to accompany his inevitable death – Surely she would know about the silent autodestruct order herself by now, running and active, that the rest crew by that would already be safe and away in escape pods, and that it is merely Picard remaining.

Who seems to have heard him after all, telepathically connected with him after all, as he can hear him call back his name suddenly, utterly surprised! Oh yes he has heard him, his Captain knows, that he is still alive! Suddenly some faint glimmer of vague hope sparking within his utterly obsessed neural net, literally igniting his every relay back into more promising tension, it instantly wipes away the ugly picture of horrid death clawing inside his besieged mind. Yes, he has heard him!

Did she just talk to him? Has the Earth woman not just replied over his staying behind? To look for his, 'friend'? Who had helped him years ago to escape from the brutal clutches of the Borg, and would owe him the same now? That friend can only be himself, no one else of the crew is around anymore, everyone has literally disembarked – Even Lily is now finally gone, and all he can hear is this one subdued mind, of his very Captain.

So the Borg Queen would no doubt have heard him as well, why else would she not force him to deactivate autodestruct, when the Captain would not even be on his way right now already. Or she might even ask Data to do it, and he surely would oblige her with that as well, now that the Captain seems to be the only one left along with him, thus at this time he could not even allow it to complete its cycle.

With his speeding thoughts running near amok again into another completely different direction now, his cooler officer's mind seems to take over suddenly, as everything is different again, and yet so clear as never before in his resettling mind. At least about the fact that he needs to stay in control now, and must fall calm. But all of a sudden he can not hear Picard's thoughts anymore, or even the hive's. Perhaps she is blocking them, or he lost their connection after his desperate call for him, maybe the hive even were alerted to his mental betrayal, or she no doubt with all her uncanny powers.

Sheer dread engulfing his every restored circuitry again suddenly, she perhaps even wants him to appear, to take revenge on his, maybe even both their former, 'betrayal', and Data's own current one besides. Surely she has heard him calling out for him – What only would she do next once Picard is here, stands to most obscure or even deadly reason, and does not sit easily in his once more differently plagued mind now.

And there he can suddenly see Picard, literally just wander inside Engineering without any hindrance or slightest trouble at all, unarmed and unharmed, and Data really is even more staggered about that fantastic fact, than that he thus no doubt must have heard him calling out for him. Or that he never has tried before to even think of him. How could he ever talk to him again, without ever thinking of that. Unless what will happen next, might prevent him from ever talking again at all, since up to now everything was finally clear-cut, in hand and could be calculated to his own course of possible actions, until autodestruct struck his decisions from his very hands, and it was all done.

Yet now suddenly with his unexpected appearance, again nothing is safe to even be speculated over once more, and all he could hope for now is, that she would release him, so he might be enabled eventually to find his sure way into that one more favourable position. To finally truly contemplate, and ultimately execute, what they have had in mind long before he was even captured. With the entire situation utterly altered another time, or if to his own better advantage still, stands to even vaguer reasoning besides now. Data's every thought resetting into another dangerous still before the deadly storm indeed, he finally does fall all composed.

And it might prove more than enlightening, a mere intellectual brainteaser suddenly, yet indeed dangerous or even fatal in unpredictable conclusion with Picard's sudden arrival. Which fills him with even greater apprehension now again, while Picard so seems to look for him amongst the regenerating and other utterly ignorant drones merely hissing out his name, staring after his every step, following him in no immediate action to stop him. Just as she had said.

The Captain in great trepidations with his anxious eyes flying across the occupied alcoves, Picard is feeling their laser guided Borg eyes drilling right into him. Yet he would not be at the right position close enough to detect his lost officer in return, until the Borg Queen suddenly reappears from the sudden so black and threatening shadows. As if having waited for him, and her odious powers pervades everything at that suddenly, instantly attacking him verbally, lunging at him from out the ominous depths of the dark, she reigns supreme.

"What's wrong Locutus? Isn't this familiar!?" she hisses at him from out the gloomy shadows.

Picard turning to her, looking exhausted and sweaty, he falls into utter dread at her sudden reappearance, having believed her dead and finally gone. While she suddenly is all but prancing her sure and attacking way towards him with maliciously glinting eyes, hissing at him with an angry snarl, coming closer and closer like a deadly reptile on her final prowl, having recaptured her once lost prey.

"Organic minds are such fragile things – how could you forget me so quickly!?" comes another snarl. "We were very close you and I – you can still hear our song..." she then again purrs at his panic-struck eyes.

Nearly frozen with fear, Picard tries to keep calm. All the while an utterly unmoved Data can see him from the corner of his golden eye, right there shivering in her overpowering presence. Nearly relishing his obvious distress for having left him behind, when he indeed had saved him from her years back to begin with, and feels suddenly overwhelming anger at her remembering him so well. Data left in jealous irritation about their 'song', it can only mean, the very same she had done unto him at the very beginning, and then tortured him no doubt just the same, even if for other reasons then for sure.

All against Picard's own rapidly fading will as well, at no one's earthly powers to defy her for long. Which makes him almost pleased that he had resisted her and became a deprived drone instantly, at his mere human status of no more interest to her then, not ever to have tasted her the most thrilling way he just had. Suddenly able to understand fully, how this immoral Ira Graves really must have felt, while running freely within his own entirely overtaken brain matrix years ago, when he was utterly consumed by this extreme jealousy, it was aimed at no less exactly this one man right here, his very own treacherous Captain.

As Data listens as he there replies, she only stares at Picard with coldly harmful eyes, recalling no doubt his every own painful paralysis, and his assaulted mind and tormented body, then under her complete and perverse control over him.

"Yes, I remember you – you were there all the time," Picard husks back in sheer disbelief. "But that ship, I know all the Borg on it were destroyed…"

Sneering back at him, she stops smiling her leering smile, and Data can see her to have no interest in him anymore.

"You think in such three dimensional terms – how small you've become," flow her mocking letters of ridicule to Data's sheer delight. "Data understands me – don't you Data?" she adds with a much softer voice in turning to him.

Looking straight at Data with this again much more affectionate smile, and longing gaze to pool into her quicksilver eyes, she passes his Captain to stroll over to him. Picard turning back, he finally finds his deserted Second Officer, and sheer shock flies across his stunned face, as he beholds his suddenly utterly changed countenance. And Data's right arm exposed and just the same of equally pinkish look, confined behind a forcefield at that, inside a Borg alcove regenerating already.

Data only glaring into the devouring darkness lying ahead of him, with Picard's bewildered eyes clinging to his immobilised body, he looks just like the drone next to him, before more trembling words of quiet fear finally leave Picard's lips.

"What have you done to him?"

The Borg Queen abruptly staring back at him, she only derides his sudden concern in titling her head again replying all so smugly, utterly convinced over that is what she has achieved for Data, eating away on his every unwrapped nerves in tatters again.

"Given him what he always wanted; flesh and blood," comes her satisfied reply.

Data continuing to stare into the dark yet able to observe and hear them, both still within the wider field of his greater peripheral vision, his sudden interest in him is having no impact on him. Data still unable to move trapped behind the shield, he watches his own plight now, and Picard suddenly demands her to free him, now all of a sudden playing the concerned Captain.

That after a whole day of infinite aeons of waiting in vain, lost in painful doubting about everything and everyone, no doubt bloody fighting, and all that hideous pain and mental anguish on either side. And the most exuberant experience he will ever be able to recall, all his own forever and alone. Just as she has said.

"Let him go… he's not the one you want," Picard demands rather faint voiced.

Tilting her head at him again, she only ridicules his attempt to bargain with her, and Data can feel his place can never be taken from him, just because his oh so righteous Captain suddenly wants his oh so precious officer back, he had deserted the whole time.

"Are you offering yourself to us?" she suddenly asks rather coldly.

Picard frowning at her, he suddenly gathers the whole idea behind her entire existence. And that he should not have resisted her to become her equal, since by that had merely ended up another drone, she could torment and use and manipulate to her own nefarious needs, take whenever she felt like it.

Gasping up realising what literally grave mistake it had been, he even approaches her now utterly amazed, as the cold truth suddenly stabs into his realising mind, like the cold steel into his very eye then.

"'Offering myself'? – That's it!" he exclaims, seeing the light at the end of the dark Borg tunnel finally. "I remember now, it wasn't enough that you assimilated me, I had to give myself freely to the Borg – to you!"

Hissing back at him suddenly, she draws away utterly disgusted at his impudent words, to move on some paces and snarl at him some more. Rejecting his sudden comprehension outright, now too late at her already chosen 'equal', so much more superior and so much more exciting than he ever had been, she spits back at him indignantly.

"You flatter yourself!" she shouts out in moving away. "I have overseen the assimilation of countless millions, _you_ were no different!"

Posting herself out of his reach, she turns back to him as he replies fairly calmly, staring at her angry stance and is even following her all intrepidly suddenly.

"You're lying! – You wanted more than just another Borg drone, you wanted a human being with a mind of his own!" Picard barks back in turn. "Who could bridge the gulf between Humanity and the Borg, you wanted a, counterpart, but I resisted, I fought you…" he suddenly near whispers again thinking back now in sheer dread, he ever had.

Raising her chin at him in sheer defiance still, she honeys him with no lesser true words, Data only knows all too well to be absolutely right, watching both their belligerent postures, satisfied she would reject him in return right now.

"You can't image the life you have denied yourself," she sneers back at him with a pleased sigh.

Still slowly reaching closer to her now again calmer gaze, Picard responds all the more softly now and no less unexpectedly, as if he really means his next surprising words. All the while Data is observing them both from the corner of his gleaming-gold and utterly cold eyes, as if they are lovers, feeling for the other's craved attention, and is not at all amused suddenly again.

"It's not too late," he purrs up suddenly in drawing closer. "Locutus could still be with you, just in the way you always wanted, an equal – Let Data go, and I will take my place at your side, willingly without any resistance…"

As it seems he suddenly wants to exchange himself for his Second Officer, Data knows exactly what his mind is really thinking right now, as it simply can not be, for him to suddenly be so noble to sacrifice himself for him, after all the time he never even thought of him – Yet indeed that would be his logical and deceptive ploy as cunning Captain, and perhaps in real and honest intent to see him freed, as a former friend, he had deserted shamefully just as well.

But then again, it could just as well be, that he simply plays for time till autodestruct has fulfilled its cycle, and they all would go to blazes – sacrificing his Second Officer regardlessly along. While she seems to fall for his so righteous offer, and suddenly even smiles her ever-mysterious eyes at him, she purrs back at him with a now again all so soft and rather surprised voice.

"What a noble creature – quality we sometimes lack. We will add your distinctiveness to our own, welcome home, Locutus," the Queen states in raising her left hand to his face.

By that she even brushes it over his lips like a found lover, and Data can not believe she has said or done that, just about able to see them – Picard of all can not become his bitter rival to her not ever, rather his own brother but not him, she is his alone! But by that so intimate response and direct move to welcome him back, she no less has lied to him.

Yet unable to even speak up, all he can do is endure both their detestable lover's reunion, with the searing jealously rising inside his every screaming circuit once more, unable to even release the unbearable pressure increasing in his every neural relay once again. And there she finally gazes back to Data, wills the forcefield aside, and then addresses him directly and softly intoned, to leave.

"Data, you're free to go."

But indeed, he will not want to go. Data turning his head sharply towards them only, unwilling to leave her or the once more changed situation, he will _not_ leave it Picard, not ever. It will _not_ be taken out of his own decisive hands, not now. Simply not replying at all, as only stare straight at them both now, she is still gazing over to an utterly untouched Data, waiting for his reply.

"Data go," Picard orders him as direct command now, without even looking back at him, thinking he simply could just order him about again, with not even one kind look after he did not ever think of him all this time.

But in fact, Data has no interest in his so 'noble' offer at all, and instantly returns his utterly insubordinate, and almost detested voice with a single word of sheer defiance. Just so to make it absolutely clear to him how deeply not only hurt, but extremely disappointed he feels about him, this entire utterly outlandish situation, and her to be all his alone, just to make him suffer a little bit more for his renewed betrayal.

"No," Data nearly moans in a very low tone like a sulking child.

Picard turning to him with an incredulous face of shocked surprise only there, he can not believe his so indomitable reply. But that he must have arrived too late, and that they obviously have succeeded not only to assimilate him fully, successfully tempted him with human flesh and blood to defy his own Captain at this too late a stage, to even be able to attempt to save him. With sheer dread rising inside his own artificial heart now, he is just staring at Data's utterly cold glare back at him.

But then again, is it true either way, or have the cards not already been dealt 'invisibly' otherwise once more, the very moment the forcefield was raised, and only Data knows their true face value? Holding them all in his very own firm hands still? Indeed, and they are not to be taken away, not by Picard ever, who seems to see them right now not even realising their true deal. Which makes Data sneer back at his stunned eyes with a mean look of sheer scorn, just so to make his utterly disobedient words absolutely believable.

"I do not wish to go," Data defies him outright.

As the Borg Queen triumphs over his desired response, with a satisfied smile thrown back at his fleeting ridicule at his now former Captain, she raises her voice into true victory at Picard's utter horror finally sealed.

"As you can see I already found an 'equal'," the Queen declares softly in passing him. "Data, deactivate the self-destruct sequence," come her words of final command in turn.

Data simply stepping down from the alcove by that without a second thought, except to have been confirmed she in fact knew about the autodestruct sequence, and no doubt all he ever thought of, and his lamenting call for him, to her own pleasure it seems either way, he can handle that for sure. Data heading straight for one of the large monitor panels, Picard in utter dismay calls out in near dashing after him, while Data pays him no attention as do what he does, determined to end it all right there and now, utterly sick of it all.

"Data no, don't do it!" Picard snaps after Data in stepping into his way.

Data ignoring him completely going to the monitor, he punches in the code to override the autodestruct command with superhuman speed. Picard stepping closer behind him seeing his nimble fingers flying across the console, he tries to reason with him, desperately attempting to prevent his disastrous interference. Which is however perfectly calculated down to the last vital detail, since Data simply can not let himself allow them to see fail now, but let fall into their needed places finally, at his own perfectly controlled game now ultimately commenced.

"Data listen to me!" Picard shouts at him again in despair.

But there the ship's computer merely reports coldly, that the autodestruct sequence has been aborted, and Picard exhales visibly troubled. Data just gazing back at him utterly untouched just the same there only, trying to make him see, it is his own ex officer's countermove now. Picard only perceiving finally lost hope and recognised forced betrayal, she steps in and demands Data to follow her own, and further orders from now on, with a suddenly much harsher and commanding voice.

"Now enter the encryption codes and give me computer control!"

Data complying again, he keys in some other code, and all Picard sees in horror, are his golden fingers flying across the black panel for a second time, and he steps beside him utterly desperate now calling out his name. But all his former Second Officer does as he speaks his name again, and once more as a mere whisper, is ignore him, and Picard realises utterly hopelessly in final sure knowledge, that he has lost him for good now. Picard falling greatly alarmed and no less deeply saddened, Data just glares his most disenchanted blue and gild eyes back at him, realising he really believes his apparent 'betrayal'.

All the while aghast Picard's ever more distressed, and greatly lost eyes study the unbelievable transformation literally marked suddenly, that truly semi human face. And for a vague moment neither really knows what is truly played out on either side, both hoping the other might realise the inner truth, which simply must be. Before either speaks some more, Data turns away to rejoin her, finding his all but expected reaction more disappointing, than satisfactory as to his deliberate act to betray him.

Picard now finally the enemy and at their ultimate mercy, Data steps beside her, and as she gazes upon his desired and utterly serene presence, before he just smiles another faint sneer at him. While his ex Captain stares back at him utterly defeated now, he is once more in the brutal hands of the powerful Borg, not even wanting to imagine what more grim horrors it will mean for him from thereon, he can only remember too well.

"He will make an excellent drone," Data states all the more convincingly cold if soft-voiced, with a touch of true malice flying across his half human half android features.

With two close drones instantly seizing him, it is now perfectly clear to Picard, that his former friend has become more than just part of the hive now, at his mere comment to even be taken as expressed command, for them to follow his every word as instant order even without her ever direct input.

As he just stares at Data in sudden hatred, all he can do is hate himself at this most unwelcome moment, for having abandoned him no doubt, left him to his own devices, while he was hating her and all but forgot about him in their deadly hands. When there never has been a chance for him to resist her powers either in the past, and now is facing the ugly fallout at this one most tragic a result, that not even ever so powerful and always loyal Data has been able to resist her.

The drones dragging Picard away, one of them rips off his red command undershirt, down to his sleeveless and sweat-soaked blue-grey shirt just to drop it, while the table apparatus is slowly turning slightly over on its own underside. Data returning to the monitor panel displaying the actual flight path of the warp rocket already in space by then, the drones slam Picard down the table while she steps onto it, to watch them pin him down in great and cold pleasure, with one of them holding his nasty-looking circular saw arm extension to his very chin.

With frozen fear spreading over Picard's every soaked inch, Data announces matter-of-factly to bring the external sensors online, while punching in some other code to lock the surveillance system grid into place. Then glaring back at his former Captain utterly indifferently, with a slight expression of visible detest, he moves over to some other computer console, while the two drones leave the Borg Queen with her latest victim.

With all the others again going about their quiet duties, Picard is not even tied down in any form to the table, unlike himself before, Data finds most annoying at this moment, as is only mentally kept to her commanding presence. With her stepping to his other side as they both watch the monitor display, following the warp rocket flight, Picard is only thinking in ever growing horror, it would make treacherous Data no doubt now attempt to destroy it, and he can not do a thing against it.

"Quantum torpedoes locked," Data declares as a cold voice now located farther behind them both, placing himself by that very closely to the warp core plasma coolant tank finally.

With her immediately ordering him to destroy them by cold words in return, Data puts his left fingers to the console, and after a second of poised delay to touch it, drops his hand to activate the command for the devastating weapons to be fired. And instantly the mighty flagship salvoes a spread of three quantum torpedoes heading straight for the Federation's very own future's first warp drive rocket, never to see grand Starships be built to ever explore the galaxy.

Data slowly stepping down from the podest after the deadly deed, they are both watching the monitor and the rocket's path, while his concentrated eyes never leave them, and he moves casually over to the warp core, to hear her whisper finally with near delirious satisfaction.

"Watch your future's end," she declares her final victory with a most satisfied smile.

As they both observe the warp rocket climb higher and higher in the black skies, Picard turns more than terrified at the obvious consequence to get blown out of the literal heavens any second, while she delights in the triumphant vision of them to destroy their own future. Smiling after the three torpedoes gaining on the rocket, then, when they are supposed to strike the ship, they pass right by it by a few ever so precisely calculated kilometres, and Picard instantly gathers in utter surprise and quiet relief, that Data has not betrayed them at all, but her alone, all along!

And she immediately spins her aghast and angry face back at him, shouting out Data's name in sheer fury, and shooting him deadly arrows from her detested eyes, Data returns her cold-blooded sentiment, by hissing back at her with a vile expression suddenly, and a touch of malice in his growling voice.

"Resistance, is futile!" return his lips curled into a repressed arch of at least uttered hatred.

By that, Data instantly whirls around to the warp core, and slams his left arm right into the green tank with a most forceful swing, and it explodes instantly with a loud crash and hissing sound. Drowning out any exclamations to his own hurt as the volatile coolant escapes at once, engulfing him in the course, he gets instantly carried across Engineering in one vast roiling wave, spreading out into every corner, and is instantly lost in the thick mass of heavy liquid gas. Picard at once seizing his chance to actually escape the lethal matter, he is realising in greatest satisfaction indeed, that Data after all was waiting for exactly that one chance to overthrow her in an instant.

As Picard suddenly gets up sharply, to reach out of its immediate contact by stepping onto the table higher up, she looks after him rapidly getting the idea this to be more dangerous than of mere distraction. Willing three of the cybertangle tubes from the ceiling right above them, for her to escape by them to disconnect herself from her organic part, Picard simply snatches for one of them and starts to climbs up on it. To get to safer higher ground and away from her, while she seems suddenly unable to interfere with him in any form otherwise.

Grabbing for another of the thick tubes higher up, he tries to swing himself away. But there she suddenly resorts to climbing after him stepping onto the table, and snatches for his right leg seizing his ankle to pull him down. To detach the tube from its socket from under both their greater weight, trying her best to make him fail to hold on to it. With great fury and hatred twisting around her lips, she is gasping out bursts of angered force while seizing his leg, at his no lesser great strength needed, not to let go of the tube in his own struggle for his very life now.

All the while Data is still alive, and in full control of his again every concentrated thought process, and fine-tuned faculties returned, after great agony not to scream in more perverse pain while the coolant was eating away on his every organic flesh. As that was indeed their objective for her to get destroyed by in the first place, and has eventually recovered his lastly assaulted senses, and tactical position. After having been thrown across the place, under no sensations left to feel anything anymore, despite the fact that his emotion chip is online, he still simply can not deactivate them. But by that he has stealthily moved all unnoticed toward them both, under the cloak of the now brownish gas rippling along the ground, and can even see them through the mist reaching up his right hand in a sharply angular fashion. His arm now stripped of all the organic skin, it is exposing his cybernetic endoskeletal construct once more, with the blinking red and green diodes all still online.

And then he emerges slowly like a monstrous sea creature, with his face looking up, now just the same returned to its more grotesque metal foundation, peeled back to its original aspect of similar make as to his exposed arm. With the same few phase lights all flashing, after the organic matter has literally liquefied across it and destroyed the human eyeball, it is now leaving merely an ugly black socket behind, and the few patches of his golden bioplast skin kept untouched. Data raising himself to seize her around her waist, with an expression of no less determined resolve, he simply has to end her deadly reign for good, at his own loss of her once so desired body.

With his even greater weight now pulling on both of them, she starts screaming in enraged hatred trying to hold on to Picard's leg, while Data drags her down more and more, just as determined not to let go of her slim shape. Now the very enemy literally personified again, she loses her grip on Picard and slips further and further under Data's greater power, until she has to let go of him with a loud yell, and both fall from the table backwards into the swirling gas. Getting engulfed by it at once along with Data, they are both reaching out of sight devoured by it entirely in a whirling wave, with not one gasp coming from him as they finally vanish.

Picard desperately clinging to the tube, it suddenly comes loose and he is swung aside into a better position to land and hold on to one of the bulkheads. All the while the volatile gas does its lethal worst to the Borg Queen, starting to eat away on her every organic parts just the same. As she is screaming in horrid torture while her flesh is stripped from her, tossing her metal skull still from side to side, her skin slowly dissolves and slips from her entire body. Until finally she falls all quiet and dead, and at last literally destroyed, only the metal construct remains an ugly silver gleaming skeleton, and her organic Borg body is vaporised within seconds.

As she lays dying, all her connected drones self-destruct in their alcoves or where they stand immediately as well, violently dying in agony and falling where they expire, half of them their very own former luckless crew at that. Picard rushing past some of them just simply erupting with a flash terminated in an instant, he quickly reaches for some wall panel to activate the massive vent system into loud action. To drain the lethal vapours within a few seconds, and then make his way down to the deck.

Looking around, he is rather shocked about the instant and deadly effect it had on all of them, no matter their original intent. Never having seen anyone dying so horribly, he feels almost sorry for her hearing her ghastly screams, as undeniably there could have been any other less deadly way to rid themselves of them. Or indeed save their own at that, dying right there for Picard's insane obsession to eliminate them all.

Data having crawled over to the table, while Picard is climbing down to look for him, he is sitting himself up fairly drained it seems, against the back of his former isle of vile torture and finally ended captivity. With his right knee up gazing about waiting for him, he is suddenly in an altogether different mood again, all but reset system mode of no less relief himself it is all over, and is only pondering about the violently devastating result.

And indeed her gone as well, he finds most regrettable after all the more, most exquisite pleasures she had allowed him to taste, which can never be deleted from his again calm and controlled mind. Picard carefully treading amongst the black-grey, and still slightly wispy sea of many stripped Borg, they are still partly flashing their green diodes, at no doubt now all others dead besides. Slowly stepping over some of them in quiet amazement, at the massive and hideous death toll, past the destroyed warp core tank, it is still gleaming all florescent green and emptied.

Glancing around, seeing all the killed Borg's metal carcasses just perished in their alcoves, and strewn all over the still humming place, he finally beholds the grotesque remains of the Borg Queen. Still writhing on the deck as if in last silent throes, of never-arriving death to ever consume her finally, her metal spine and the red demon-eyed vertebrae are still squirming. Like a crushed snake lying in final death throes, moving inside her silvery skull's very socket with a mechanical rattling sound, as if trying to raise herself from the dead, she had caused so many unfortunate millions to join, now finally having become one herself.

Picard stepping next to it, he goes down to pick up the small, shiny cranium at the base, and by that it comes loose from her destroyed shell, still writhing in his hand. All the while Data just sits close behind him, as if in a slight trance observing him, feeling very weary after all the excessive stress his entire system has suffered, no Human could have survived sanely at that. Feeling even oddly laid-back, to at least compensate his battered state psychologically, now that it is all done indeed, his safer algorithmic logic can take over again, no less tingled with more amused blips suddenly as if lost inside his hysterical fallout.

As he is just sitting there as if lost and found again with his cybernetic arm and face flashing like tiny X-mass trees of all more merry things, he perceives it all a more humorously macabre conclusion, as to the ghastly drama having brought them there. Watching Picard to suddenly snatch for the spine, he snaps it in two, with a last sickened intent to finish her off for good himself now. Never able to see her the way he does, he is still ravaged by quiet hatred for her, and then drops her severed and now truly destroyed parts, like useless scrap metal until the last red lights just expire like extinguished flames.

Data finally tired of waiting seeing him attending to her first, again, he is in no mood to prolong any of it, and calls him softly by his title, and Picard turns around exclaiming his name fairly passionately suddenly. Seeing him all that stripped down to his technical make, and thankfully still in one android piece indeed, he remembers having seen him before like that on several occasions, and does not really touch him at all. Squatting next to him with one hand to the table, he instantly asks genuinely concerned, if he is alright. For Data only to sigh the sigh he never needs to heave, and respond fairly good humoured, with his right arm across his chest.

"I would imagine that I look worse than I…"

Pausing there in reflecting on his logical words, he finds them more than bizarre or even funny suddenly, after all the too intense emotional drama and even extremer physical impact and all-round traumatic fallout it had on him, if true indeed, looking a right blinking cybernetic mess for sure.

"'Feel'," he then adds with another dear sigh.

Picard looking at his so casual demeanour, obviously understanding that this can only mean his emotion chip is online, never realising it was activated against his will at this point, he waits for him to add something, much closer to his non-existent heart, sensing he needs to somehow. Giving him the good time to speak his true feelings, at least for once between them here and now, Data gazes down on the sad ending of the most fascinating, and sadly lost woman he ever was fortunate to meet, who ultimately has taught him so much about physical fulfilment, and would never want to forget her.

So formulating it for Picard to realise, since neither really knows at that moment what the other has endured at her very hands, that he is genuinely saddened about her cruel, if ultimately necessary demise, he whispers with a contemplative undertone, "Strange – part of me is, sorry she is dead…"

Picard looking over to her destroyed shell, he can allow his current sentiment to that degree, and replies fairly honestly, now that she is finally defeated, it seems, "She was unique…"

Data reflecting on their most passionate time together, he then adds less clearly revealing words, so Picard would accept his more personally tinged confession afterwards, without any finer details at this moment needed to be made known.

"She brought me closer to Humanity than I ever thought possible – and for a time, I was tempted by her offer," he confesses suddenly still gazing at her dead remains.

Picard gazing back at him sharpishly, he asks not so much concerned as more surprised, "How long at time?" after all the horrible doubts and false beliefs, about Data's once more proven ever loyal and more than exemplary conduct.

"0.68 seconds Sir… for an android, that is nearly an eternity," Data replies truthfully in android terms, with a faint glint of mystery in his one gild eye left, if no doubt understating otherwise.

Internally sighing up, Picard smiles at him ever more relieved, and offering his hand to help him up, Data accepts his kind gesture, as indeed it was an eternity for him, of grisly torment and most heavenly pleasure. Both getting up heavily, they have a last sad and no less glad look around near devastated Engineering, and then leave the place of dreadful carnage and forbidding destruction, neither worse for wear.

Or so it seems.

27


	6. Chapter 5 The Carnage & Clash

The Carnage & Clash ------------------------------------------------

As they are leaving Engineering and the doors close behind them entering the deserted and dimly lit, and Borg free corridor, Picard wants to head straight on to get away from it all. Data suddenly just stopping, he looks down the ground as if thinking of something but can not quite grasp. Picard turning back to him with a frown, enquiring what the matter is, Data still seems to ponder hard but appears unfocused suddenly again. So not answering, Picard steps beside him in touching softly for his shoulder.

"Are you alright? – Is there something wrong Data? – Data?" he asks with a concerned voice.

Picard withdrawing his hand as Data raises his bare android features, he is standing himself sideways as if suddenly ashamed as to show his exposed metal nature. Even pulling down his sleeve to cover up his flashing cybernetic arm, he is glad none of the ugly rest of his utterly stripped exterior is at all visible anymore now under his clammy uniform. As if not wanting to be reminded of it to any further extent either way.

"I am not certain, Sir," he replies lowly, darting his one golden eye across the floor.

Picard stepping closer seeing he is struggling with something, he responds instantly with the one repetitive question Data is expecting to hear again, as usual.

"Are you having some sort of malfunction again, Data?" he asks softly.

Data sighing the sigh he hardly ever needs to take, raising the golden side of his stripped face at him stepping back one pace, he shakes his head at him with a suddenly utterly amused smile of scowling disbelief. Then nodding to himself with a vocal exhale, he believes it is time to tell him what he really thinks about this whole grim disaster, and then even mockingly phrases his next reply, looking straight into his waiting eyes, in full emotional control of his wholly logical mindset.

"Tell me, Sir," Data raises his voice in addition now. "Why is it that 'Humans' always believe I am 'malfunctioning' again, each time I do behave like a 'Human' and appear other than my cold and calculating 'android nature', Sir?"

Picard now thrown off his expected reply mindset, hearing him saying something other than what he expected, he frowns at him and shakes his head, not sure what exactly he means. Of course.

"I don't understand Data, what is the matter?" he again asks not quite clear on his reply. "I was merely concerned and thought…"

Data cutting him off in shaking his head rapidly, he is finally pushed too far. Not accepting anymore to see his own emotional needs not met to any more considerate extent at this very moment, after all the extreme exposure to them, he finally simply demands when he believes his rightful requests are to be fostered, which is right now, and will no longer be ignored.

"Uh uh no Sir no, not 'merely' nor 'concerned' or 'thought' at all," Data suddenly snarls back at Picard, falling right into his words fairly short now. "All these many hours I was held captive against my will, not _one _of you were concerned or thought of me, or tried to even establish 'merely' _once_ what was happening to me in there as an officer at least, which is no less regulation, Sir!"

Picard sighing, not quite sure what to answer to his no doubt true statement, not even thinking how he could actually know that, glad enough he obviously emerged alive and apparently well, he tries to just stop it right there. Simply turning with a low voice unable to reply anything more helpful at this stage to that point, Picard slowly walks away as if trying to avoid him suddenly.

"I'm sorry Data, I'm sure it was horrible, truly I am," he replies dismissively and tired in heading on. "But we have no time for this now, we can discuss these issues later, I need you on the bridge. Now please, Commander."

Data not at all surprised about his strict and suddenly even formal reply, he in turn follows him with a frosty sneer, and then heads him off with a most bitter reply, passing him with an even more determined step and defiantly raised posture without a second glance at him.

"Then find yourself a new 'Second Officer' for your 'bridge' Captain," Data sneers at him coldly, meaning every single if softly spoken word at his utterly unacceptable reaction. "If you can not even spare me a moment now after all this abject horror, just like you had not even allowed me to express myself at Stellar Cartography two years ago, when I only ever pleaded for your help _once_ then, I now will not ever plead again, since I am not even a full 'Commander' to begin with either! Yet everyone else was promoted bar myself, 'Sir'!"

Picard instinctively grasping for Data's shoulder just passing him, now even more taken aback by his utterly unfamiliar insubordination, he is not even taking it as a fallout of his obviously before demonstrated classic pretend act, but now between them as face value. Gasping up as he stops him dead in turning him around gently to look at him, Data lets him with a cold glare, yet steps back again so Picard has to let go of him.

Now truly concerned, glaring at him with sincere eyes, seeing how serious and no doubt hurt he must feel right now, especially after his direct referral as to their previous clash over his emotional issues he did not allow him then to even be addressed properly, at his obvious mistake or promotion failures, it now is all coming back to haunt him directly.

"What are you saying Data? – What happened in there?" he asks now even more concerned.

Data shaking his head again with a sneer, he blinks as if deeply pained suddenly, once more posting himself sideways for only his intact side to be seen. Looking to the ground again as if pondering about his seemingly genuine question, Picard appears to stay for now after all, and even encourages him by once more touching for his shoulder softly. Data turning to him straight again on, he then answers him not the least less belligerently intoned, clearly still in a great deal of inner distress erupting again, and gives it to him as plainly and shockingly graphic as possible. With a short and sharp voice, so he would finally get the gruesome idea of his undeniably traumatic captivity. Leaving out the more pleasant part for now.

"They tortured me for the encryption codes as you would expect, once noticed I was unlike any of 'you' and the answer to gain control of this flagship! But not in the way they had done it to _you _within a few minutes only after you had refused 'her', Sir!" he suddenly hisses at him, at Picard's instant shock after his second word alone.

"Nor did they declare me as 'obsolete' as you had me as Locutus, or therefore tried to destroy, disassemble, or assimilate me the way _you_ were, fast and ultimately for my missing DNA, and I will not diminish your own ordeal, Sir. But, 'she' activated my emotion chip against my will I could not ever deactivate again, and tormented me with all that live flesh at not the slightest signal degradation! While I laid restrained on that table for hours bound in sheer dread and appalling pain, and then even drilled into my skull to lay open my every neural pathway! That to say live 'nerves' suddenly made physical, just to force the damned codes from my neural net!"

"They grafted our own killed crewmembers skins onto my near entire structure, then assaulted me sexually so I would comply I never did, despite all the hideous things they did to me to betray my fellow crew or my friends! Who did not _once_ try to make contact with me, when my combadge signal was still active ever since I was dragged in there and they overpowered me eventually, while I could have been beamed to safety in an instant!"

"I tried to call for help but failed to speak. Attacked by their nano probes my overloaded system could purge, it caused me to collapse for that in utter dismay to face other cruel assimilation techniques. All at no interference from them in any form later to disallow or even attempting to retrieve me, nor ever tried to prevent anyone from establishing my status! All the while _any_one could just wander in there as you so amazingly demonstrated yourself, and that only after _I_ called you in my last desperate attempt to make you realise I was still alive, finally connected to the hive in hope you would hear me, 'Sir'!"

"Only to see you believed I had betrayed you on top, while all _you _had done was abandon our intent to rid ourselves of the Borg! Then you simply deserted the ship, escaped in pods while _I_ tried to keep my mind sane, altered body in one piece, and the declining situation in hand! Before _you _simply called for autodestruct after hours, to blow me to kingdom come with all the captured crew just the same. You never even tried finding out _once_ what happened to me! While I had to face the ultimate end on my own trapped behind that forcefield in terror, going near insane thinking of my friends who never came!"

"Do I really mean '_that_' little to any of you to abandon a fellow officer, if not even friend like that, I do not even seem to count as either, Sir!?" he finally shouts at him in directly leaning into his bewildered face.

If ever Picard had been shocked about anything Data had ever said to him before, not only in grim context but suchlike uninterrupted and at great length, or anything to that horridly graphic extent besides, that must be _it_. As Picard just stands there utterly stunned already after his first line alone, not having expected anything as gruesome as that, if nothing too pleasant for sure, able to even imagine most of it at his own no doubt terrible experience, Picard is utterly speechless suddenly.

Not even able to lay his hand to Data's shoulder again, as much as he wants to in pure and deeply touched support, as if suddenly in utter awe he even survived any of it, he only there gathers the clear idea as to why it seems so important for Data to talk about these horrible events now. Picard paying him full attention suddenly, he realises his grave mistake to have ignored him, again.

Even at being faced with the all-round more gravid implications, at his utter neglect of due care of duty to look after his at least as valuable an officer to begin with, establish his unsure status at that. Realising this suddenly in even greater shock now, Picard can not ever even begin to apologise in any acceptable form. Or even explain as to why they had abandoned the unofficial mission. Or Data without a second thought.

Or even first, by the most unfavourable looks, and as Data can see he is utterly shocked just staring at his one golden eye left sound, he asks again, not letting go of any of these too personal issues at this point ever. While Picard is not even able to once utter a word of innermost horror marked on his frozen face. Or at least any verbal sympathy, left struck mute literally.

"Why did you not even _once_ try to establish my status in all these ten hours, Sir?" Data asks coldly.

Picard not at all able to even answer that, he can see this to be more important than just another emotional breakdown. Sighing deeply, he finally replies to get around the most delicate issue for now.

"We were engaged with the Borg as you know…" comes his evasive response.

Data seeing this will not work to his expected needs, he again sharply shakes his head and retorts instantly even less forthcoming.

"Oh _I_ knew that and _you_ knew that, Sir," he scorns him now. "But I doubt throughout all these ten hours at my own better knowledge now as to the Borg's activities, not even wanting to bother with us as merely take over the ship, unless provoked. So that would mean you had no inkling as to what my officer status was, Sir?"

Already cornered and in no good position to begin with, Picard has no idea what to say to him, feeling all the more horrid already for his sake, rather than his own unable to even lie to him now.

"Not all the time Data, no," Picard confesses timidly in lowering his eyes.

Data nodding to himself now and looking down the ground again as if to follow his own gaze, he asks him more directly ever slightly less friendly intoned, despite the fact to address him as respectfully as usual. Yet suddenly with a most distinct touch of Lore's sharp and commanding verbal attributes creeping in.

"'Not all the time no', hm," he mocks him again. "What exact time then, and established by whom, Sir?"

Picard seeing indeed where this is heading, and in no real position to actually be able to answer him satisfactorily still, he sighs again replying ever more vaguely.

"Data please," Picard begs him, "I'm ever so terribly sorry. You have no idea how much over what you had to endure during all these, horrors, I _do_ appreciate believe me I really do. But, I cannot even answer that…"

Data not letting go of these too hurtful issues however, he simply tries to force him to answer this at least by repeating himself deliberately.

"So I really mean 'that' little to any of you, to abandon a fellow officer if not even friend like that, I do not ever seem to count as either way it seems, which was not actually the first time either, Sir?" Data throws at him again.

Picard shaking his head in a terrible predicament, unable to even oppose his question, no matter not fully true at all trying to speak, he simply can not find any words to even say sorry again. Making Data only harshly add more displeasing and valid accusations to batter him some more.

"So I do not even count as any 'thing' valuable enough to be saved in any form, not even to perhaps be salvaged and 'fixed' later as I so often was before, I see, Sir," he scorns him with an ever-greater mocking tone nodding to himself again.

Picard engaging into the inevitable word battle finally, he instantly shakes his head most emphatically, and even touches him on the shoulder gently once again. But Data simply steps further back another time, as if not wanting to be touched at that stage anymore in any form, not even kindly. Picard taking this as severe officer trauma at the moment, and not personal after what he just has told him, able to reciprocate the horrible emotional fallout he can accept and understand at his own grim ordeal at the brutal hands of the vicious Borg, he answers him most sincerely intoned.

"No no Data no, that's not true, _no_!" Picard counters instantly. "You're my dear friend and most invaluable fellow officer, you know that!"

Data however only persistently continuing his completely calculated stance of intentional verbal attack, by simply demolishing his every following response deliberately to the very bitter end, he forces his Captain into the one painful corner he himself had pushed him into all these years even literally so. Picard facing his ever more losing battle to stand any personal ground at his ever more vocal assaults, it will see one as the merciless hunter, and the other as the exposed hunted, as they finally face their ultimate ego clash after years of unresolved issues.

"No Sir I do _no__**t**_," Data counters in turn, emphasising his sharp 't' like Lore had. "Perhaps so because I am _still _not regarded as truly sentient and well respected enough even as a long-serving Starfleet officer, to at least see to my safety, which is statute to treat _all_ officers. Let alone leave behind a 'friend' another would want to find safe and establish his unsure fate by all means, Sir."

"But you _were_ declared an autonomous sentient being with a free will, able to choose unreservedly over your life and career!" Picard instantly replies to his own defence, trying to digress from the actual subject."_I_ saw to that, and you _are_ my friend Data!"

"No Sir, with all due respect. I was only declared able to choose as an 'officer', not ever to 'be' a 'sentient being' to do that," he corrects him instantly in leaning into his face again. "Despite all proof to the very opposite, since I do not require any validation as to my conscious existence by Humans no matter created by one. Of which yet none ever thought of even trying to make contact with me, or at least establish my 'officer' status, despite the fact the ship's encryption codes were still safe, Sir."

"But I feared you were dead," Picard replies no less truthfully. "That they had killed you at some point sooner than later like everyone else, because they obviously had failed to force the codes from you Data…"

"No Sir I am sorry," Data mocks back again. "All you did was 'hope' they had at your own words as Locutus, or closer experience with the Borg, to spare me a similar grim fate of assimilation, which in fact was not half as perverse as mine. While you merely focused on _your_ very own ordeal, over what they had done to _you_ before, Sir, _not _what they ever could do to _me_. You simply blotted _my _own possible suffering clean out of any existence by concentrating on _your_ very own, and by that were consumed by sheer hatred, and utterly neglected all protocol to even prove I was lost, Sir," he accuses him straight to his face now.

"I hoped they would simply switch you off, deactivate you, kill you anything to spare you my ordeal, now utterly paling as to what you had to undergo. I was thinking they were unable to assimilate you the way they had us, hoped that they had not managed to reactivate your emotion chip, so you wouldn't suffer anything to that end as you had before," Picard replies fairly quietly. "I _do _understand and remember that you had then two years ago Data, I _do_," he adds, looking at him again as if to apologise now after the fact.

"No Sir, you do _not_ understand," Data defies him outright in turn. "As otherwise you would have let me present my personal issues then or even just now. But you only did on my feared resignation even after some more than obviously grave events today. Instead, you choose to simply force me to integrate my feelings of utterly unknown scope, like sentiments of great fear and as overpowering as guilt. Over Geordi's capture on my failure to act my usual superior and unaffected nature to save us both, and rather instantly stifled any chance to even let me deal with them in any form, than to understand them by allowing me the time to reflect on them."

"I had requested to be deactivated, so I could return to the state of being of better service at that point in time, after it was impossible to remove the obviously malfunction chip. When all _you _did was shout at me and forced me to deal with them right there and then even by order," he reminds him sharply now. "If you consider this what you call, 'tough love', then I am sorry Sir, as it might be an acceptable form of unorthodox approach to care for a Human, who could draw on any experience of emotions having possessed them all their life, but _not_ for myself. You elected to simply ignore that fact, when _you_ had the most invaluable experience involving all sentiments, and even as officer all through your entire life to be able to do that, in contrast to me utterly new to them, Sir!"

"Is that what this is all about, Data? My apparent failure to help you then, is that it?" Picard asks, suddenly realising what this might be about.

"No Sir not exclusively," he sneers at him again at his too naïve reply. "What did you think I was doing in there today after they dragged me into Engineering, hm? Play a friendly game of 'skin strip' poker with the docile Borg drones, or 'her' later we never even realised was still alive, Sir?"

"I wasn't thinking anything Data, my head was a riot of hissing Borg voices, only trusting you might be able to handle them perhaps better than I had at your superior skills," he replies in his best intent to sound genuine. "I hoped you could stay alive unharmed somehow…"

"No Sir, you were not 'thinking' at all that is correct, as otherwise you would have tried to establish my status of some sort, to go ahead with our plan," he brings up again. "All you did was follow your directive to eliminate all those who were taken, not to be or stay fully assimilated. You yourself ordered us to kill anyone, 'do them a favour', remember? Instead of evacuating the ship to safe them all including myself right there and then already, and only afterwards perhaps destroy the ship," Data suddenly declares as an option no one ever thought of, with Picard only keeping stumm.

"Or did you believe I might perhaps have become willing part to join their collective, in the way Lore had been able to force me to comply with _him _before, Sir?" he then asks bluntly.

"No Data no, never!" Picard sounds up instantly. "Lore had complete knowledge of you to be able to manipulate you the terrible way he did in the first place, no! But the Borg had not, at least I hoped they wouldn't know what to do with you, or harm you…"

"No Sir, you knew _exactly_ the Borg were more efficient than that, despite me not possessing any DNA they need to rewrite for assimilating Humans in nil time," he corrects him coldly again. "No, you simply resigned yourself that you never could regain access to the ship's computer without me, and to the fact that we apparently can not ever change this imposed history nor return to our own. That is why you eventually abandoned our initial intent to even try to destroy them the way we had in mind."

"You just aborted this entire 'mission', this ship that will never be, and then even my family and self expendable at that! Just so to make sure we would not be part of their intent to maintain this Borg infested past, by gaining my greater powers and knowledge to enable them even further," he accuses him directly again. "So you simply wanted to end it all with one easy step, by calling for autodestruct suddenly to at least destroy those present. In fear I might have become part of the collective at their infallible ways to assimilate everything and every living being, man or machine that comes their unfortunate way, not ever _once_ trying to make sure that actually had happened to me, Sir!"

"I was so afraid they could do that, and destroy the future of the Federation by that after all," he confesses. "But I had hoped they simply failed at your superior construct and perhaps just, disposed of you, after I noticed that the ship was still safe unable to force the codes from you…"

"No Sir, we are not talking the sacrifice of one for the survival of many," he corrects him again coldly. "You were only afraid that _I_ had failed not _them_, at _your_ own inability to fight them five years ago. Or that hey had simply destroyed me. Yet you tried not even _once_ to establish if they had and simply called it a day, while we back then had tried our all combined best and were successful in retrieving you, under _exactly_ the same circumstances!" he shouts at Picard now sharply, pointing him to the clear facts alone.

"Had you no inkling as to what they could do to _me_ this time in all these hours, when all around your fellow officers were assimilated by the minute once again? What made you think _I_ was spared in the first place, disregarding your words to me then to be declared as 'obsolete', Sir?"

"I tried not to picture anything half as horrible as you even have described Data," Picard admits meekly. "And I can never even start expressing my horrors as to what you must have suffered in there, way more than I had to, or apologise enough that I could not help you… truly I am…"

"No Sir, and you did not even _try_ to help me," Data charges him once more. "You failed me gravely this, but not the first time either, at other occasions which were never addressed at my never mentioning any of them over the years. Because all _you _ever did what think me either able to deal with any issues, in great error I might add at my silence, just because I initially had no emotions to fall victim to either and then be able or draw on them in the first place, not to be rendered unsuccessful to deal with them," he enlightens him to his silent horror.

"I simply had to solicit others to see to that when I had asked _you_ for help, not anyone else, but _you_. All _you _did was simply think I was 'malfunctioning' again, and called on Geordi to 'fix' me like a disposable machine. Instead of rather maybe realising I might require simpler 'human' contact and help, like any other officer you appear to pay more attention to when in need, Sir."

"No Data I didn't pay any more attention to other officers, don't believe that! – I _did_ listen and help you as best I could, please…"

"No Sir you did _not_," Data opposes him again. "Simply for the fact that several times I had asked _you _for direct help, and even pleaded for vital input you could have granted me any to no end. Yet you simply left me to it just because _you_ have issues with _your_ own feelings, not _me _with _mine_, but _you_ alone. And by that, _you _believed _I _should just as well simply swallow _my_ pain, _my_ grief, and _my _doubts _you _are unable to cope with either way openly, _not _me. Because _you_ think it is a weakness to express them in the first place, 'Sir'!"

"You all just took and took and drained me dry day by night saving your skins constantly, and then abandoned me like a piece of scrap metal, after I never even saw one deserved promotion for _any_ of it thank you for that in addition! 'Captain'!" he pitches at him, finally telling him how he really feels about more than one issue.

"Have you any ghost of an idea as to what I had to do in there to survive, Sir?"

"Please Data don't do this please I, I'm so sorry about any of my shortcomings or what you endured, truly am I please Data I…!" he replies desperately intoned, but Data simply cuts him off now finally pushed too far.

"Have you any idea what it means, to be tied down and she forces herself on you despite your every failing efforts to resist her, and she tortures and paralyses you into submission for encryption codes to a ship that will only be abandoned, and never even be built in the first place. Do you, Sir?"

"She, she did not," Picard stutters up at the mere thought of 'her'. "I, I rejected her outright with all my might… but she swarmed me constantly, she was there all the time touching me and eating away on my soul my body and will and… please don't Data, please…"

"Have you any idea what it means, to be stripped down to you literal fibres and then be covered by your own massacred officer's very skin, lying in unspeakable physical and mental agonies literally made feeling flesh, at not the slightest hope in hell to escape, not ever knowing what more perverse horrors they will subject you to next. Do you, Sir?"

"I cannot even begin to contemplate such gruesome horrors, even at my own suffered tortures, Data I, please…" he begs him again.

"Have you any idea what it means, to see yourself split in half in assaulted body and dying soul, not fully human nor fully yourself anymore, trying to think of the past that never was? And all you ever did and experienced is suddenly utterly meaningless, with your family all dead and brother gone, no one even thought of either to at least preserve your own legacy by, when you believe all your friends have deserted you! Do you, Sir?"

"Data please, I could not help you! I was obsessed by sheer hatred for her, them, this whole grim situation! Please Data…!" Picard entreats him most desperately.

"Have you any idea what it means, to face your own inevitable destruction and no doubt painful and utterly pointless death? All immobilised and trapped behind a forcefield, with your agonised mind running amok connected to the hive, in no sane expectation left of any rescue at your own friends' safe escape never even sparing you one little thought! While you are their tortured captive dying already, trying to think yourself into oblivion not to face it all alone! Until your soul is screaming in hell already! And I _do_ have a 'soul'! Do you, Sir?!"

"Data stop it, please don't do this, please!" Picard implores him once more.

"Have you any idea what it means, to see your own Captain only remember you suddenly when called on through the very hive you hated, ever since they took your will, your body, your soul, your very life in your incessant pain? Until your overwhelming grief and eventual madness are grinding away on your every rupturing fibre, and then even believes you have betrayed them! Or better still, let the brutal enemy do the same and even worse to your supposed friend and respected fellow officer! Do you, Sir!?"

"Stop it Data! I could not…!" Picard shouts at him again.

"Have you any idea what it means, to have to kill the only woman you ever truly desired and taught you how to become fully human, in finally fulfilled body and freed soul in constantly torn mind? All because of your prevailing duties of a career that will never be, and all your personal want and needs are retreating for needing to co-operate with the enemy to survive? And then even find yourself suddenly more valued by 'her' than your friends! Utterly obliterating your every chance to keep a sane focus over no earthly prospect of happiness with her! While your friends have deserted you and the enemy has more desire and respect for you than they! Do you, Sir!?"

"Data please! She…!" he hollers back in turning away.

"Have you any idea what it means, to feel finally safe in the embrace of that extraordinary woman you know will want you until death you can not ever love, but then even have to bring toward that ugly death by your own survival? Suddenly realising that all your solitary life you never had felt safe before at all, but were followed by that bleak shadow of utter loneliness! And when you ask for help to deal with any of it, your friends just think you are 'malfunctioning' again! Do you, Sir!?"

"Data don't do this! Leave me be!" Picard hisses at him while Data simply follows his every escape attempt.

"Have you any idea what it means, to be possessed by alien minds commanding your every fading free will, your very body and soul, to the extent to even make you hurt your friends or lose your memory in the course of duty? And then even are killed by those you saved having been abandoned for weeks on end by your very own crew, and find yourself suddenly revived with even less recall! Or better still, outranked by these very 'friends' without the slightest concern over the obvious disaster that befell you and did not even earn that promotion! When _you_ never saw another well-deserved pip yourself for your greater services! Do you, Sir!?"

"Stop it please! I…!!" Picard shouts out again in raising his hands now.

"Have you any idea what it means, to be taken a mere 'machine' they simply can switch on and off at 'their' will against your own and reactivated when needed? Just like your emotions when it suits others without the slightest concerns what it could do to your recollections! Which has nothing to do with an 'indulged ego', while you become paranoid that your friends might feel this to be a sentiment of 'self-centredness'! But easily call another fellow egotistical officer 'brave' to feed his own! While you are not spared _one_ thought by that for your being a 'machine' left to the enemy! Do you, Sir!?"

"Data have pity! You _are_ brave and not a mere machine! Please! I could not help you!" he begs him once more.

"Have you any idea what it means, to be forced to face the sacrifice of your short life for absolutely _nothing _you thought meant something to someone? After having saved their lives dozens of selfless times, being taken forever granted and never seen vital support when in dire need, thinking you ran amok again like any Human could! But were merely confined once more to your quarters like a criminal, or saw any real gratitude expressed over something that will never even be! Like your very own existence they appreciate when needed only! While your friends do not even care about your very status lost in action! And _you_ did not even attempt to 'help' either! Sir!"

"Data please stop it! I was blinded by hatred!" he beseeches him over in trying to leave.

"Have you any idea what it means, to endure the vile tortures of your enemies trying to shatter your every breaking bone, searing nerve and ripping fibre, sane thought and free will? Until utterly destroyed, so you comply and betray your friends you trusted and hoped to look out for you! While they dance on the very grave of your legacy meaning nothing to them, wanting to kill your brother and only child in the course as well!!"

"Leave it Data please! I didn't think of your brother or Lal!" Picard cries out as Data simply blocks his way again.

"Have you any idea what it means, to cry in endless emotional anguish and everlasting fears, only increasing doubts, overpowering grief and ever stifled guilt drowning it all into forced silence? While none of your so-called friends seem to want to see or hear your great plight, and then even are left deserted for your inability to express real feelings! Or better still, left behind alone aboard when everyone visits their 'families' or else have their 'day of birth' but you! And no one even thinks might be of importance to you, or at least simply celebrate your mere existence _once_!!"

"Data good god! Please, I…!" he shouts at him in turning away again in ever growing despair.

"Have you any idea what it means, to look into the eyes of the only person who has truly brought you closer to Humanity than you had ever hoped, and experienced the most ecstatic physical and cerebral pleasures with known to 'man'? And that at the one last intimate glimpse she knows to be left just the same in the 'dead' sure knowledge she will be massacred by your very own hands that very moment, all in the name of 'Starfleet' that did no even exist anymore! While your friends have long forgotten you ever even existed in the first place!!"

"Stop it! She was a monster!!" Picard yells out with Data stepping into his way again.

"Have you any idea what it means, to endure every single emotion possible you ever experienced within a few agonising moments, ravaging your every sane thinking in killing fear? Or even in hope you might mercifully go insane or even perish right there and then! And then face the agony of your very skin being stripped from you just the same whilst killing that very woman, who was _not _a monster! But _yourself_! 'Sir'!!"

"Please! Leave me be! Data!" he shrieks, trying to push him away now more than angrily.

"Have you any idea what it means, to find your only true friend to be a 'cat' at the end of the day? Or how to be completely human for at least '0.68' seconds in all your lonely and unfulfilled life, without having to forever hide your feelings far beyond the 'required need' to appear a competent captain or ever thinking to be 'weak'! _Do_ you, Sir!!"

"Nooo!!" Picard screeches back at him finally losing it, while Data stands firm.

"I thought so," Data sneers at him suddenly again all calmly, with a mean grin worthy an angered Lore.

"Have you ever been afraid of me, 'before', 'Sir'?" Data leers into his shocked grimace, even pushing him lightly with one finger to provoke his final reaction.

By that an utterly maddened Picard finally snaps indeed, and lunges at Data with both hands, after ever so often having stepped away to evade his cold and unnerving metal stare, at Data's ever so precise following him to face him again, darkly shouting at him. Just as he had done it to him before on occasions, and Picard suddenly tries to seize his throat in sheerest distress now.

But Data simply snatches for his hands instantly just the same by the wrists, and pushes him hard against the close wall with his arms spread aside. Just as he had to lie on the assimilation table before, and drills his one golden eye into Picard's grimacing face, relishing his every fearful expression marked on his stunned face.

"Ahhhh-nooo! Let go of me! _Data_!!" Picard finally squeals back, wrestling with his iron grip.

As Picard indeed stands no earthly chance to even move a muscle suddenly under his too powerful grasp, Data pins him down just the same as he was before, exactly like he had to endure his own iron Borg restraints. That so to the great fear of Picard's erupting inside his beleaguered mind that he might just crush him to death, never having felt his deadly powers before like that.

Bar once years back, while he was possessed clamping to his throat, choking him under the influence of one of those 'alien minds', or when one of the D'Arsay array entities had grabbed his wrist just like that. Data finally whispering ever more calmly and composed her very own words with a slight sneer flying across his golden lips, he does so very closely to Picard's gasping for breath. Just so, for a last grain of good cruel to be kind measure to rub it right into his very, opened wounds, delighting himself at his thorough plight.

"'You can not begin to imagine the life you have denied yourself', Sir," Data mocks him again perfectly quietly intoned suddenly. "And I have achieved my goal for you to ultimately realise _any_ of that. '_Sir_'."

Data suddenly just ceasing his ever more vocal and dangerously threatening, if mere verbal and yet utterly focused and deliberate attack on him, he indeed has achieved his very objective to see him finally emotionally collapse. Just as he had to watch himself over and over, and instantly releases Picard just as fast without the slightest pity.

Stepping back, still glaring at him in full view now as his Captain just breaks down suddenly utterly traumatised, he is literally felled in a final instant. Sliding down the wall to cower himself into a pitiful ball, at Data's so violent and relentless forcing him to face his very emotional issues, they never had been Data's at all only, but Picard's very own besides.

And that they were of the very same complex shades of all but drowning and ever more choking colours of Picard's illustrious life, to finally see clearly painted down on the clearing canvass of his advanced days, his entire and profoundly lonely existence, and suddenly starts crying, finally and unremittingly realising that. Ultimately freed from his very own haunting ghosts having tinted it all over for so many years, for all his ever brutally buried emotions he never had addressed himself to cope with them fully, they finally slowly revive and become comprehensible again, in every experienced tone and ever more essential detail.

After every single emotional issue was presented suddenly by Data's merciless exposure of them, which were once the very same to Picard all but only having eaten away on him, never compensating or truly dealing with them in contrast to Data, he by that had forced him to do the very same to Data. As so, each and all points finally addressed they both had experienced in near equal measures, they yet were utterly different in perceived scope to either men. Or in the eventual effect it had on either of them, to live through and with any of them, and evolve by that. Or of course not, in Picard's case, merely stifling them to now most devastating results.

And so the once pleading student has finally outgrown and even overthrown, and ultimately become his superior's very, unsurpassed master himself, and now can spread his wings. Just as his father had once said, even if only encountered in an intriguing dream. But now at last it has become perfectly clear to Data besides, that all he ever needed or has to do from hereon, is rely on himself alone, his own 'technically' everlasting body, superior mind, and no lesser immortal soul. And _no_ one else ever again. Let alone weaker Humans.

As his own greatly burdened spirit is still running amok while his fast steps are taking him away from his devastated Captain, his all the more lucid mind by that ego clash is finally delivered, and he will never allow his now eventually matured emotions ever to be stifled again. Or to overpower him again in any form, if possible. And so Data simply leaves a distraught Picard to his own journey of true emotional discovery, and behind in the infinite field of myriads of feelings to achieve final relief.

So having ultimately taught his very peer the true meaning of his once sought advice, after many years of unresolved pain and imposed loneliness over unfulfilled desires, emotional isolation and needless hardness, Data simply walks away. Just like Picard had so many times before. But now they are finally even, and completely _equal_. Human.

13


	7. Chapter 6 The Fallout & Finale

The Fallout & Finale--------------------------------------------------

As Data is stomping back to his quarters still deeply incensed and terribly disappointed, he has to manoeuvre his one-eyed way precariously past the plenty dead Borg carcasses strewn all over the emergency lit place where they fell, only thinking what horrible carnage and needless death it all had caused. Not a 'heroic' war won, no; now it appears as simple mass murder to him. Data peering at them with their dead shells all destroyed, some are still even blinking their twitching laser-guided eyes at him.

All just because his Captain apparently still had very serious issues with them ever since they had taken him. Sure, why not, he is merely a weak Human ravaged by irrational hatred and unresolved fears and lingering pain, still after all these years. Always burying his emotions to more than obvious devastating results. Now they finally had come to a violent head on the Borg's unexpected return, laying siege to his precious ship.

Data clearly recalling the day they all had tried their combined best and even succeeded in retrieving their Captain then, it had been most of all for his own direct 'input' having tapped right into their hive mind, sending them all to sleep to release Picard from The Collective. That surely had caused less carnage, by simply dispatching them into oblivion. Even a Borg deserved a quick death.

What gave the Humans the right to think they were better, or killing them so horribly. Or the Queen, they never even realised had survived, when all they wanted was the ship and even left the crew in peace, unless provoked. Picard should have stayed in the past, or future and fight the Borg there if he needed to. He always gave the impression of superiority, when he was as weak and flawed as any other Human, constantly hiding behind his respected Captain's badge.

But that is exactly what Picard had done; provoked them needlessly and finally faltered. He should have known better. But who gave any more serious thought to the Borg anyway. Except Data. Or Lore. And now even more so, after he had met them more than 'intimately', and is not quite so sure anymore who was the 'enemy' in this galactic warfare game. After what Lore's 'aware' Borg already had shown. Suddenly it feels even more immoral to him what they have done to them, just like he did not really like the fact that he had to betray the Queen at the end, and only after he had to call on his Captain in the first place to end this entire nightmare engulfing him.

No matter the Borg had assimilated millions against their will, true, and not in a painless way either, true. But there surely could have been another way to deal with them today, less drastically. And without needing to kill her either. What was it with Humans always wanting to destroy and dominate others? Self-defence is one thing, but 'Klingon style' carnage is simply not acceptable.

Just like they had done it to Lore's own Borg not even attacking them anymore, only three years back now. When their fortress was taken out at no provocation only trying to keep them from finding Data. But of course, Picard had long found him, and then was promptly seized by Lore. Along with Geordi and Troi who both should have stayed aboard, and not_ever _be part of a search party of all. What only was Picard thinking to bring them along then.

Data feeling very taken aback with his confused thoughts running amok even more than before, feeling used and abused, betrayed and discarded, he enters his darkened quarters, and the lights come on automatically. Soft and dimmed as he had set them since some time now, and not like before with that glaring white light they had on the _D_, he found very cold and unpleasant eventually. Even Spot had shied away from it at times and sought refuge in his darker bedroom, having a peaceful catnap there.

And here she is, coming right up to him, meowing at him as if asking what has happened to him. To them all, the deserted ship and the entire galaxy, he once more had saved. Apart from Earth, again. Now no longer a Borg infested globe in space, and the future of the Federation secured.

True, only because Picard had disobeyed another direct order to stay away from the Borg and went straight after them, but then simply abandoned him to the implacable enemy and decided to blow him off the grid, once the Captain noticed he had lost the battle long before they even evacuated and called for autodestruct. Not even once thinking of him or what could happen to his Second Officer in their brutal clutches. If it had been reversed, Data would have dived straight after his Captain to prise him from the Borg claws over his own non-assimilateable body. He had saved him from two already trying to snatch for him, and not only out of reflexive duty.

All Picard had defended himself with during their ego clash just now, were mere hollow words, they mean nothing to him. All he sees is that his Captain had undoubtedly forsaken him, for his own emotional instability finally fractured. Why would he ever want to be like them, 'more human', when he has always been 'more human' than and superior to them, emotions or not. That alone is why they are still alive – and now he has seen once more, how inadequate his 'human' Captain really is.

He always had looked up to him, sought his good advice, and now this; he utterly forgot about he even existed, deserted him like his 'precious' ship for emotional problems over the damned Borg. That is why he even had forced him to suffer his own emotions, because Picard of the _Enterprise _hated emotional outbursts, which could make people deal with them and cope with their pain better. No, all he ever did was bury them, and Data has paid for it all again, _not _his Captain.

Data's head, a riot of even more painful doubts and deep hurt now than before while he was trapped behind that forcefield facing the ultimate alone, he finally picks up Spot purring around his legs eager for food, after all these terrible hours of her owner's grim ordeal. Going over to the Replicator, he calls for some of her favourite supplements more absentmindedly, knowing the cat is not really interest in his fate, as long as she gets her food. Once the bowl transpires and he puts it down the floor right there along with her, Spot dives for it famished enough, while Data just stands there for another moment, utterly lost, and not fond.

And then the grim emotional fallout finally finds and hits him face on, and he simply falters, needs to sit down fast not to just drop, and his system suddenly surges into a delegated auto self-diagnostic to stay online. All these dark hours of horrible anguish way surpassing what his system was designed to withstand, the extreme mental suffering, all the unbearable physical pain and great pleasures of the most thrilling arousal on top, had made him so deeply afraid that his neural net might simply collapse him into final oblivion.

But it seems it had adapted so strongly over time that even such terrible stress did not send him into a final shutdown. No matter he obviously had syncopated like any Human and his utterly shattered system finally just simply switched off. On his way too potently experienced final pleasure peaking. Which all undoubtedly would have killed any Human, even the orgasmic raptures, he still would never want to regret having experienced, ever. Still even now sensing the ecstatic electrical discharges releasing from his every fingertip and live skin. Except the appalling torture. But he cannot forget either.

Sitting there, he suddenly starts crying from his one eye still left intact, honey coloured drops of grief streaking his dulled bioplast skin, and Data feels like dying again. All he wishes is that he could just die away right there. Go offline forever. Like his tragic brother Lore, like his beloved Lal. Or even like the fascinating and powerful Queen had. Not in that agonising way, no; screaming her metal skull off squirming in agony with all that live flesh on her liquidising into nothing, just like the sensual skin she had given him.

It was utter agony even beyond the vile torture she had inflicted on him before, with her uncanny powers and sexual attack not even touching him much, when the potent flesh was stripped off near his entire body still in full capacity to feel and sense every tiny 'bit' of sensory input, and nearly sent him offline writhing in more suffering not to scream himself. Until it was all over suddenly and his system could reset, and then made his stealthy way towards them both, to yank her off a panicking Picard trying to escape and descent with her into that lethal coolant, to perish so horribly.

Seeing her in his mind's eye, lying there in her last death throes like a crushed snake writhing in hellish torment herself in the whirling coolant, her piercing scream is drilling into his mind just the same and he grimaces into more tearful misery. Just like the drills they had used on his own skull, and he suddenly shudders with an agonised groan, holding his left hand to his one eye, as if it could make the horrid visions go away, blurring them into cold memories.

No matter that depraved act to drill into him like a dead appliance had not caused him pain, at that point. Only deep shock. For the violent connotation, he did comprehend by all means, and all only for wanting to collapse his neural net to extract these confounded codes, and gain a ship that never even was to be. And then only was abandoned by her utterly overpowered Captain to blow her out of existence. Just like himself. How could he ever forgive Picard for that.

With Spot suddenly there again, having gulped down the big bowl of yummies, jumping up his lap, it seems the cat can even feel his unfamiliar agony and loud sobbing, purring around his chest as it trying to soothe his increasing pain. Data peering down on her, with half a grimace for the left side of his face utterly incapable to generate any facial expression movements at the bare cybernetics left, seeing that she is his only friend as ever when he really needs someone, he takes her into his arms. Only to cry into her soft fur some more, like an abandoned kid clutching to his only faithful companion.

When the tears are finally spent, and Data has cried himself into another emotional state of growing anger again, he slowly gets up to put Spot down, and heads into the bedroom, with the en-suite lighting up softly just the same. With his head bowed and fists clenched, he stops in front of the large mirror, and after another moment contemplating to actually look at himself finally, having seen his stripped arm, he can imagine that his face might look just like that.

So he stands himself sideways again, like he had done before with Picard during his heated words with him. Not for him to be spared his unnerving bare android nature, no, but for having felt naked suddenly. Violated and naked, stripped down to his bare wires. What Humans might consider degrading, being touched and forced upon against their will. Let alone tortured. Now he knows how that feels the same. Deeply disturbing. And he finally realises what Lore must have suffered at the hands of the callous Pakleds, who had tortured him some more, once they had retrieved him from his galactic grave and tasered him.

Raising his leaden head slowly to peer at his intact side from the corner of his tired eye, his face looks just like before, slightly wet from the yellow tears spread all over his tormented and caressed skin, and even his one eye is still all that opalescent. But the shine is all gone, and with only that single optical input distorting his already unfocused vision even more, all he sees is his pale misery blearing back at himself. Turning slowly to gaze at his split and damaged features fully, he feels a strong shudder rushing through his frayed sensors at the even if expected, hideous countenance staring back at him.

Remembering his face when it looked like his father's suddenly, with the live skin having transformed it into his exact image, an attractive human face, rosy colorations and even a bright blue eye to complete his handsome attributes, all there is now is a grotesque, ugly metal shell with a black hole for an eye. Not even the red and green blinking phase lights can enliven the depressing aspect of his now part lost golden android image, which was personable enough, in human terms. Some even had told him that the he was a handsome man, android nature or not. Most notably his only ever 'girlfriend', D'Sora, before she deserted him for being too 'unemotional' and they never talked again – Now she would not say that anymore; 'Data you're not 'emotional' enough'. She betrayed him too, purely for his 'dispassionate' nature.

Shuddering to think how the rest of him will look like, when they had grafted more skin to near his entire endoskeleton, bar a few patches like his hands or feet, even his intimate parts had been skilfully covered. To experience the full scope of sexual pleasures with someone's no doubt own male attributes. Or rather one of his own luckless crew, now dead and gone just the same, whoever it might have been. As highly pleasurable it had been undoubtedly, now he shakes himself thinking that they did that to him while he was utterly oblivious, or how the others had died, remembering their hair-raising screams in Engineering's other sections being assimilated. Only for him to feel the first time in his life the true sensual sensation just like they had before – down to their agonising deaths.

But for now he has to get out of this clammy uniform, soaked with his own liquidised skin stripped away from under it. Kicking off his boots, he slowly undoes it to step out of his dirtied jumpsuit and wet russet undershirt. To drop them where they fall, now truly naked, exposed and feeling ashamed. Unlike before, when he suddenly was semi nude and she had touched him in exciting pleasuring rather than contemptible torture even while still clothed. If only he could deactivate his emotion chip like he just removed his outer shell. Or as he still could do even before the Borg Queen had forced him to suffer, or even delight himself in its potent releases of all possible sensations and emotions generated he never knew. Except once before, not even having had it installed, while under Lore's control.

But it was impossible; the chip no doubt needs more time to reset itself to switch it off again, and cannot be removed ever since Amargosa at any rate, when it had fused into his neural net on sudden overload. But at least he finally could activate it at will once reset soon after, but that would mean several more days now, after the much more violent system excess this time. He would have expected that once the Queen had died, her powers over him gone, the chip would have retuned itself for him to utilise it on his own will. But no. Just like it had happened with Lore. Maybe one day Dr Crusher will be able to extract it after all. But then again, he has no real intention to actually stay that long.

Collecting his clothes more in a trance to stuff them down the hazard matter processor rather than normal recycler both located under the washing basin, he touches the sensor pad. Keying in the unlock function code, the front drops open to reveal a large metal box. Removing the combadge and pips putting them to his hairbrush on the commode, he puts his disgraced uniform inside.

Keying in another code, it closes automatically, and will literally reprocess or recycle whatever is there into the same or other materials through he ship's recycling plants. Unless it is still 'alive', to avoid terrible accidents. Or even through deliberate acts of some pet or even small child being put in there, to kill it. He had heard of such shocking 'human' deeds; now he would even believe them outright, after what he has witnessed in Engineering.

Looking down on his flexible bare metal alloy chest, he shakes his head in disbelief with another big heave, which he definitely needs to take to cool down his inner overstressed workings, seeing the same cybernetic shell as his stripped arm and face. With his near entire body looking like a blank android slate for Dr Soong's skilled hands to come into action to finish it neatly with the golden bioplast skin, Data closes his eye again utterly devastated. Now they would need to replicate some more, and try to reconnect all the plenty motion points in his face to be able to move it and to smile again, if ever he could after this abject horror.

With nothing much of his proud manhood left either, as merely the retractable cybernetic stump to form the actual penis prosthesis, it is just as dead as the rest of his physical sensations. After it had given him so much pleasure in the Queen's most accomplished hands, he never could feel with Tasha before. How he would have desired to retain the live skin, look like his young father, feel like his father, and all the sensation any man could experience – and all only for his Captain's utter obsession with the damned Borg having literally dissolved that wonderful dream. Now knowing, and having lost all that, again, it is even crueller than never having felt any of it. The ecstatic pleasures, and even the contemptible torture, anything at all to the physical extent he never could before. Or now ever again.

Putting his still golden hands to the commode, looking down his still golden feet, he sighs again, and then runs his slim fingers through his partly ruffled hair, the soft curl she had given him. Brushing it back neatly to near look like it usually did, he does not even want to brush it properly as he always has done it so meticulously. Maybe he should just stay like that and shock everyone, once the other crew would return to the ship, and tell them more than bluntly what the hell had happened not only to him. But he has no intention to actually stay aboard to do that, after what Picard has done to him.

Gazing down the carpeted dark floor again hunched over like a broken robot, he can see poor Geordi already near fainting no doubt. Or Councillor Troi most likely, especially since she could even feel his emotions he definitely would not hide from her, or his resentment towards the Captain. If not so much to Dr Crusher for probably not having been aware of his fate, and because she always treated him like any other Human, despite her ridiculous talk about the damned '_E_' when he could hear them all through the hive mind, not even thinking of him either.

Or Riker, who was still down on the planet having helped Cochran launch that first warp rocket, oblivious of anything that went on here just the same. But now Picard would no doubt have already called them all back, if he would not still be cowering in that corridor in front of Engineering crying his own face out. Finally. Or inside his own quarters, recovering himself there. Or perhaps even say farewell to Lilly, and they all would return soon together.

At this point not having the slightest idea as to what will become of any of them anyway, unable to return to their own past as it seems, Geordi might find a way to possibly recreate the temporal vortex by reconfiguring the warp field to match the chronometric readings of the Borg sphere as best try to return through time. But he would not care about any of that at this moment. He is convinced once they would be back in 2373, Starfleet would just let Picard off again as they always had. Or even put the blame right on his very own bound shoulders, just so to torture _him_ some more. The disposable android, the malfunctioning machine that had messed up in Engendering, but not ever the 'Humans'.

If that would happen again, he would resign on the spot. Or rather, they would probably find another way to defy him trying that another time, or even court-martial him instead and then finally end up in bits at Daystrom. But maybe Maddox would have a veto in that, after they had become friendly and stayed in communication for many years, and oppose that hopefully like he had opposed Nakamura's insane demand to see Lore shredded. Picard would no doubt as well, but mainly to keep him for his invaluable services. If Maddox is still there, since they had stopped their contact some time ago if on good terms, he has no clear idea about what he is doing, or where. Or would care about that either. Treacherous 'Humans'.

Data raising his head again to look at his partly destroyed face, he straightens himself in defiance, as his plagued thoughts are running around in depressing circles again, and then turns to the inbuilt wardrobe to fetch a new uniform, at the lack of other garments for the moment. And he would not want to touch the red jacket he had worn on Barkon IV, as 'Jayden', with the two telltale holes in it, when they had slain him like an evil fiend. Killed him like a monster in their irrational fears no doubt.

Putting it on, then his black Starfleet boots, and pinning back his combadge and pips neatly place and more a reflex action, he suddenly wonders why he is actually doing that, since he has no intention to stay the Second Officer on this 'precious' ship – So he removes them again for now, just so to show Picard what he really thinks, or _he_ wants and needs, _not_ the disloyal Humans. Which is _not_ wishing to be his betrayed officer who saves them constantly, and when it is really important for him to receive vital assistance, always gets thrown away like a piece of useless scrap metal. Like this 'precious' ship.

Which was not even the first time either, as this red jacket would be a shameful proof of. When the crew had just left him on Barkon IV for two weeks only three years ago, at not the slightest signs to come for him either, just like today in even worse circumstances. Then it would not have made any difference, since he could not even remember what he had done on the planet after he was retrieved, ending up dead with more pieces of his face missing after an attack, after they already had repaired his face before he even was restored and reactivated.

If he could ever find out what exactly had happened, or why, beyond of what Riker could learn from that kind girl Gia, he might even go back there to see his own memorial stone for 'Jayden'. Since they obviously had changed their misled minds about him, and his help to save them from the radiation sickness that much was sure, they now even worshipped him as their saviour. Unlike his present crew members no doubt, never even realising that he is the one who keeps saving them on near each 'mission'. Or 'wonderful' Earth, he only saw once in a not too glorious past before.

Shaking his head again, totally disillusioned about his ungrateful human fellowmen as never before, Data puts the combadge and pips back by his black hairbrush. Fetching for the neatly folded black hand towel next to it, the tap activates automatically as he holds it under it. Wetting it thoroughly, he starts wiping away his yellow tear traces. With a last rubbing his hands clean, another look into the mirror with this semi golden android and half bare cybernetics glairing back at him, he leaves the towel open to dry on the commode. Heaving another sorrow-laden sigh, he then heads back into the lounge.

Going over to the far end of the lounge next to his darkened office, he keys in some code, and the panel between the two wall lamps parts to reveal a hidden, deep alcove. With the overhead lights coming on softly, the left wall shows a deeper recess where he is safekeeping Lore's still assembled components clad in his Borg attire, ever since he had to terminate him after their own last fatal fraternal clash. Unfortunately. Seeing him just standing there as if asleep only, his mind suddenly wanders back to the time they had spent together, and the more personal things they had talked about and experienced, no one even realised took place. Bar Picard. And a couple of influential Starfleet admirals, they could convince not to destroy his 'malfunctioning', only kin.

Shaking his head once more in utter disbelief that he would even have obliterated his tragic brother after what he had told him in confidence about him, who still might be reparable, salvaged for later use, he feels even more disillusioned now. Perhaps he could even have replaced him, had Picard really assumed Data was assimilated or dead. So that Lore might even assist him in this bleak future, their very own past that never was. Or rather blown up the ship without ever finding out that Data really was killed, and indeed only then would be murdered like his other captured crew, and not in a painless way either.

Data turning to the other side with a deep heave, he sees some more sensor buttons, and touching the top one, the panel there slides soundlessly into the backwall, and he gazes upon the still fully assembled and dressed aspect of his beloved Lal. Also dead and gone now since a full thirteen years, and no one ever thought of retrieving for later attempts to maybe repair either. As he looks at her closed eyes and still neatly combed bob hair, the pale soft-featured face, also looking as if merely asleep standing up like a showroom dummy, he touches softly for her pretty face. Only to fall into another fit of great sorrow, that she had left him too.

Closing his weary eye with another mournful sigh, he bends down to the bottom drawer to unlock it, and finds the red plastic container with the warning symbol of the crossed bones and skull, to denote toxic contents. His special polymer based liquid, to lubricate his affected bio functions. The big container showing a coded access pad to open it, he has a last mournful look at his lost child with a pained smile, and then turns to leave her to her lonely fate along with his only brother now as dead as he had found him many years ago. Shame he never could repair Lore himself either, but without their father's help, that was impossible.

Or indeed not wise, since the high and mighty Starfleet had ordered them not to reactivate him, but could keep him here under his care, or would be dismantled himself. Despite Starfleet having no rights over him or his brother in any form to even think of that. Typical conceited and discriminative ruling of the empowered 'Humans' treating them like insentient throwaway machines. But as long as he was here with him and safe, that was enough for him. He still had his memories about him no one could take away. How bizarre his emotional experience with him would repeat itself with, her… and now both are dead to him. All in the name of confounded Starfleet.

With the panel automatically closing after him and the lights fade, he goes over to the lounge table to put the container on it, sits down again. Looking at Spot having a preening session on the sofa, utterly oblivious to the dreadful events, he keys in the unlock code. With the screw top released, he takes it off to fill it with a measured amount his system would need per lubrication. Dreading the terrible taste of it now that he can savour anything, unable to switch off his emotional response to it, he however would rather feel near sick at the smell alone, than his defective system slowing down even more now, after all the great exertion his servos and neural net have undergone.

Resolutely taking the full swig of it fast and in one brave go, he grimaces into a near vomiting reflex and vocal exclamation, and it slowly makes its way down his cyber throat. Banging the cup on the table feeling his system near contract suddenly as it get quickly assimilated and distributed, the cat almost jumps at the sharp sound, and Data closes his eye in hope not to bring it all up again, if he could. Relaxing again as the liquid does its wonder, which would kill any humanoid, he puts the top back, it locks in and the container is sealed again. Leaving it on the table, he leans back feeling his greatly stressed neural net slowly recovering, while Spot continues with her own cleanup process. Remembering the delectable red wine he had shared with Lore while under his emotional control, he even wishes he had something nice like that again to flush it all down.

But before he might consider getting some, the main doors suddenly chime up, and he startles at the unexpected sound. Looking sharply over to the entrance, he remembers in dread, that he has not locked it so no one could just wander inside. Not sure if to react or not, it can only be the Captain, unless some of the other crew have returned already. Then, chiming up once more, he gets annoyed suddenly not wanting to talk to anyone right now. Hoping whoever it is would not just let themselves in, he could just lock the door still now, by voice or direct command. But then again, if it were any of the core like Riker or the Captain, they could just order an override command, and still enter. Unless he goes to further length and disables all command functions to block them.

"Data," a familiar female voice suddenly calls out through the doors before he can actually do anything. "It's Deanna, please let us in…" she pleads softly, with Data on the word 'us' however becoming even less inclined to let even her inside, knowing that it can only be Geordi and Riker as well having returned from the planet's surface.

"Please Data – let us in, please?" she begs again, with maybe even Worf and Crusher being there too, along with Picard. "The Captain has explained a few things Data, but we want to talk to you. Please let us in, please?" Troi entreats him once more.

'The Captain has explained a few things Data', he repeats in his beleaguered mind looking only sickened, surely not from his own point of view! So it might be best indeed, to 'talk'. Sure, he will talk and 'explain a few things'. But on _his _own terms, and from _his _own disgusted lips.

Data taking another heave wanting to get up, Troi adds as he grabs for the red container, "We won't leave before you let us in Data, please, we know you're inside. Please let us in, please Data… we're all very concerned for you, please Data…" she repeats, trying her best not to sound too desperate but firm enough to make it sound concerned.

Leaving the container, sitting himself sideways to face the table showing only his intact side again, Data finally calls out atypically sharp and loud to enter, and the doors open unto the now again much brighter hallway. And it is indeed the entire core crew with Crusher he can instantly scan with one speedy glance to even include Picard, which he does not like at all. Who does not look too well either, changed into a fresh uniform. But now that they have come, he will wait for what that they have to say.

Peering at them with his slant eye as they slowly come in as if entering a dragon's den, wary and probably genuinely concerned enough, he does not look at her or anyone else directly while they gather around the table. Troi stepping next to him with Crusher by her left side, she squats down to Data, to be at eye level with him, while the men sit in the other chairs with Picard at the farthest end. Crusher however coming around Data's back, she sit by his other side on the sofa.

Giving up a mildly shocked exclamation as to his stripped condition she had not expected, no matter she has seen him exactly like that these three years back, after Riker and her had retrieve him from Barkon IV, the others can see it more or less clearly now too not the lesser taken aback. Troi just as startled looking at him closer, it can only mean, Picard has not even told them about the terrible damage done to his face, or the rest of him not even he had seen either, bar his right arm.

Troi softly laying her hands to Data's own folded on his lap, feeling his utterly torn emotions still very much in uproar, Crusher sits by his other side next to a calm enough Spot. Data but withdrawing his hands in leaning back raising his chin at her to let him be, she instantly removes them to get up. Sitting by his side with a smile he can hardly distinguish, Data is peering at her again in unspoken resentment the same.

"Alright Data, I'm sorry," Troi mutters softly sensing his great pain, while the others only sit and wait, not really knowing what to say at any rate. With that, 'brave' Worf still in his undeserved 'red' battle uniform, after simply evacuating as the one having demanded autodestruct. Picard still looking very exhausted from the pointless fighting and crying, the others just glare at him visibly upset still in their civilian clothes coming straight from the planet.

"I am surprised you did not bring half the remaining crew with you to put me under guard, in case I might go berserk 'again', 'Captain'," Data mocks him coldly without even looking at him.

Picard not reacting to his obvious resentment, Troi simply takes initiative at his deliberate silence only sighing at her with a nod.

"Please Data, tell us what's happened, hm?" she asks carefully with a smile, for Data to finally look at her straight, and instantly retorts with a snarling discontent in his suppressed voice.

"Your so 'concerned' Captain left me to the Borg after they could overpower me and my system crashed when they jacked their assimilation talons into me, only to wake up and get tortured over ten hours for the ship's codes!" he hisses back with all just staring at him in utter disbelief already. "I died in there several times in horror and agony because _he_ still had issues with them and all _they_ did was call for autodestruct never even thinking of what had happen to me!" he shouts out finally in pointing at an utterly shocked Picard, then with a sharp look at a grim-looking Worf next to him, and then a totally stunned Crusher shrinking back.

"Data!" Picard shouts back instantly. "I thought you were dead! We had no other choice any longer to rid us of them!"

"Yes you had! 'Sir'!" Data snarls back at him, jolting forwards to lean onto her table, staring his Cyclops eye right at him for daring him with that defensive remark. "Right at the very start when we engaged them in utter futility with that plasma coolant idea and dozens dead already before I even was captured! But then simply called it a day having lost the battle before we even had returned! I could hear 'them' and everyone of you talking and wasting time fighting for absolutely _nothing_ and a ship that would never even exist, instead of evacuating right there! You never _once_ 'thought' of me being '_dead_'! All _you_ did was think of _your_ own ordeal utterly ignoring all protocol and what could befall _myself_! You left me to the enemy just like you left your many crew to die and even killed yourself to 'do them a favour'! Instead of establishing my status first to be _sure_ I was really '_dead_', 'Sir'!"

If anyone had ever been more shocked about anything Data had ever said to them, and in this unusual tone of ever-rising voice and deepest resentment, that is definitely _it_ – Just like Picard has been already when Data shouted the same at him in even threatening and much more aggressive and elaborate terms. With terrible appal falling over the room and everyone dead silent suddenly, just staring at him and then the clearly cornered Captain, they do not even think Data might be overemotional or 'malfunctioning' again, but feeling deeply hurt and atypically angry. Gathering that he is in full emotional state, they take his words face value, not even having the finer details as to the true extent of his prolonged ordeal.

Worf clearly remembering the Captain had said exactly that to his crew, 'do them a favour' on their plan to eliminate the Borg with the coolant, he also recalls that he had wanted to establish Data's status along with several others the moment he was taken, but Picard had told him to fight and 'stand their ground'. Crusher thinking back that she never even knew Data was captured for the longest time, she tries to defuse the very acrimonious atmosphere by leaning closer to him again on Troi's utter shock struck mute. While Riker and La Forge only look at the other deeply concerned over what has happened in their absence, they do not even know the half of.

"I wasn't even aware you had been captured, Data," Crusher says gently in looking at him, for Data to shoot her a no lesser recriminating look, instantly retorting coldly, "You did not even ask what was happening to me once you returned to the bridge and I was not there! All the while the Captain was wallowing in his pathetic self-pity and extreme hatred come to a head in the Observation Lounge, and then simply complied to call for autodestruct not once thinking of my fate either, 'Doctor'," he mocks her now in addition, she just swallows, seeing he is consumed by deep hurting and no less correct.

"I could hear you all talking about the surrendered _Enterprise_ and if they would build a new one, when that was absolute nonsense at no such technology in existence anymore until centuries later, once she would have been destroyed! You did not _once _concern yourself with me in any form or if I was lost in battle! _Nothing_! But this piece of 'scrap metal'!" Data charges her now directly in denoting the 'precious' ship around them by spreading out his arms, she finds very unsettling if perfectly understandable keeping quiet, just staring at his outraged reaction.

"_You_ are no better than Worf moaning about his egotistical 'Klingon braveness', or the Captain accusing him of cowardice for wanting to autodestruct, wrangling over petty 'honours' and a lost ship that will never be! While _I_ was being held against my will trying to keep my assaulted body and violated mind together to save this 'ship' and the crew going by the minute! _You _all just deserted me without a first thought after all I have done for you!" he adds bluntly with a choked voice near tears breaking through suddenly, clearly in a great deal of bitterness and growing anguish, now even directed towards her including Worf.

Who both just sit there, unusually quiet grinding their teeth, when one might have thought the Klingon at least would just blow up over his sudden accusations. Unless they were of course justified, clearly proving that Data must have heard them all through the hive mind.

"I never realised what happened to you, Data, please believe me," Crusher says again very softly in putting her hands to his arm. "He vaguely mentioned that you had been captured, and-um most likely were, dead, before we called for autodestruct. I was utterly devastated about that, Data…" she adds with a sincere smile, for Data only to pull away his arm again to lean back.

"You did not sound too 'devastated' Doctor! None of you thought of 'me' _once_ while I was presumably 'dead'! I could even hear this 'Earth' woman arguing with the Captain and then with you on the bridge! You all simply left me to die while I agonised over how to stay alive and execute our 'excellent' plan I should never have agreed to, when all _you_ did was abandon ship like drowning rats!" Data shouts out, finally pushed too far.

Troi finally feeling too overpowered by his so angered and pained words, she lowers her head near tears, seeing that there is much more to the horrible story than even he or the Captain had vaguely touched on. Who had only told them that Data had been captured and he then eventually had gone to Engineering to see him released, before the autodestruct sequence would have ended it all. Crusher holding her left hand over her quivering lips not to cry for his rather than her own sake, she feels most horrid at his moment, never having known what he had suffered right under her very own busy nose, to react that violently.

Riker next to Troi seeing her deeply upset, he grasps around her in silent support, with Data only sneering at them suddenly, seeing how concerned he is for 'her', but not 'him'. But before he can actually express that, a however very understanding Riker addresses him very gently while Troi gathers herself, with the rest feeling just too horrified as it stands. If not Worf to that extent, only wondering, how Data could have survived any of what they do not even know exactly, thinking him more than 'brave' in fact. As ever he shall.

"Tell us what happened to you Data," Riker asks with a solemn face. "We want to help you in this, and establish the facts. All we know is that they took you and Worf and the Captain believed you must be killed, before he came to get you out of there some hours later after he heard you through the hive mind. He said that the 'Queen' had survived, having-um, 'done things' to you… what did they do to you Data? Please, tell us, hm? We're here to help you…"

Data's eye widening on his words, 'came to get you out of there', he suddenly jumps up, and with all just shrinking back, including Picard fearing another outburst beyond the verbal now, Data rips open his fresh uniform like paper to expose his violated shell, and shouts back at them all in wildly gesturing, pulling his jumpsuit down to his hips at their united gasp of horror seeing his naked android shell without any skin left.

"'_This_' is what they 'did' to me! They stripped me off my bioplast skin and grafted our own assimilated and killed officers' 'live flesh' all over my endoskeleton in full consciousness, while I was strapped to some assimilation 'rack'! Before 'she' paralysed and then assaulted me sexually and tortured me for these damned codes in full capacity to feel every gruesome physical pain and mental horror, having integrated it into my sensory program! After 'she' had reactivated my emotion chip against my will I could not ever deactivate dying in dread! '_Commander_'!!"

"And '_he_' only came to 'get me out of there' to end the horrid nightmare, because _I_ had called on _him _through the hive mind in the first place once connected to The Collective! Like a drone trapped behind a forcefield facing my death of being torn apart with this vessel! To signal him I was still alive and to stop him from destroying the ship along with me! He did not think of me _once _throughout these ten hours of pain and terror before _I_ had to call _him_ in hope he could hear me!! He abandoned me and entire crew just like his damned ship!!"

With even Worf sitting bolt up suddenly, utterly dumbstruck now all just staring at Data's totally stripped torso and arms not even seeing the back of him just as bared, the red and green phase lights flashing rapidly embedded in the black metal alloys, Picard and Riker simply falter, hardly able to imagine what agonies he must have undergone. No matter both having some experience with torture and physical pain. If not sexual assault.

Picard dropping his face into his trembling hands unable to refute a single furious word, more shocked over his appalling condition he never even realised before either than his valid accusations, La Forge shakes his own head at him with an aghast gasp not understanding how he could do this to his friend, or officers. Then, glaring at Data just standing there like a shredded robot nearly falling to bits, La Forge looks as white as he possibly could with his dark skin.

Crusher and Troi closing their utterly stunned eyes in absolute dismay, Troi starts to cry suddenly, feeling everyone's deeply affected emotions and her own horror over his violated shape and so terrible words. Crusher finally gathering herself, she fingers carefully for Data's torn uniform in rising to cover him up again for his sake rather than Troi's. While Riker takes Troi into his arms shaking his head in disbelief, the Doctor tries to calm down an utterly enraged and deeply hurting Data.

"Are you in physical pain now Data?" she asks very gently, almost choking on a tear herself genuinely touched, slowly pulling his jumpsuit back up over his skinned shoulders.

Data seeing how shaken Troi is, he calms himself slowly, thinking it best to let her cover him up again after his shock revelation definitely has achieved the desired effect.

"Not anymore," Data replies very quietly, suddenly near tears himself now in shaking his head faintly. "Once the flesh was stripped off my body by the released coolant to kill the Borg, nearly shutting me down on renewed pain overload, my system could reset itself into a sensory negative. All I have now are my emotions still online," he states as matter-of-factly as possible to explain how he has lost the skin to look like that.

Which however only makes them gasp up even more now, hardly able to imagine how it must have felt to have your flesh dissolved in sheer agony by the corrosive coolant.

"But I still cannot deactivate the chip until it hopefully will retune itself… like it happened after Amargosa…" he adds lowly, trying hard not to weep.

Looking at her with his one bionic golden eye, she tenderly caresses the intact side of his face once in kind support with a nodding smile, and sits him down again. Data seeing that Troi is still as affected as himself, he more reflexively addresses her in putting his hand softly to her shoulder to calm her in turn, while Crusher sits down again shaking her head in utter disbelief.

"I am sorry Counsellor that I have startled you… but I thought the shock method would at least be graphic enough to make you all realise what happened to me…"

"Oh Data please Data, no no, you don't have to be sorry for _any_thing!" Troi replies instantly grasping for his hand with a pained voice and smile, desperately shaking her head. "We cannot _ever_ imagine how horrible it must have been for you Data, but Will and Geordi and I had no idea what was happening on the ship," she explains now to release her own pain. "The connection was disrupted soon after you had returned to the _Enterprise_ with the Captain, following Beverly with the 'Earth' woman and we could not beam up either. The first thing we heard again was when this Lilly gave us the awful news that the ship was lost and the surviving crew and Beverly had evacuated, without the-um Captain," she states further, trying hard not to cry along with him now, while Data descents ever further into painful hurt no matter her words, with his chin and pallid lips starting to tremble ever more.

"Lilly told us he wanted to stay and look for his friend, who had saved him years back from the Borg, we hoped might have been you," Riker continues for her, after she looks at him to take over too affected by now. "Worf told us that you had been taken at the early stage of the Borg siege, but they thought you were-um, dead Data. They _did_, Data. They believed you were assimilated or killed like the rest. The Captain contacted us just now and told us five here only to return for now, and that he had-um found you, alive. But that-um, something terrible had happened to you. He was deeply upset, and we're terribly shocked to see you in this state. We had no idea Data…"

Data's lips curling ever more into painful hurt, seeing that Riker tries his best to stay objective, knowing the three had nothing to do with it at all, he however cannot forgive the Captain for having forgotten about him and simply abandoned the ship along with himself.

Pulling slowly back for Troi to release his hand, Data's head starts shaking uncontrollably as if his servos were suddenly out of synch akin to when people feel cold. Or indeed just feels terribly traumatised, with even his own fine-tuned system manifesting that in physical form.

"He left me to the brutal enemy, Commander," Data whisper back, unable to speak up anymore not to burst into more tears finally. "He never even knew I was dead or not. If he had been taken in my place, I had done everything to 'get him out of there' at once dead or alive and over my own assimilated body like I did before. He let us all down for his unresolved issues with the Borg and that, 'Queen'. I had to kill her with the coolant dying in agony to save him, again. He had abandoned everyone on this ship, while they died for his obsession, Commander," he states coldly, with his voice picking up gradually, his hurt turning into clear resentment again, and his head still shaking slightly not once looking at his utterly devastated Captain only staring back at him.

"Half the dead 'Borg' out there are our own crew Commander, when they could have beamed us all away the moment we were captured. There were _no_ technical or manpower issues to prevent or at least try that. My combadge was active the whole time. Let us be factual here," he continues frostily, with his chin and lips forming into a sneer now, while everyone else is just staring at him in silent horror, only now realising the scope of the disaster, or the Captain's failure to even attempt to save them. "I am the only one who survived their cruel assimilation techniques for my unlike nature."

"But it came at an even higher price none of you could ever pay sanely, or survive. They drilled into my skull to collapse my neural net for the codes to gain control of the vessel I had computer locked-out, but it failed and only sent me offline. I died basically. At that point I still had my emotion chip offline," he elaborates mercilessly, with all just gaping again in even greater horror, not even hearing that his chip was still inactive. "Otherwise you would have heard my own screams already then, like all the other crew around me, dying and getting assimilated in the most inhuman ways imaginable," he adds just as brutally, to make it as horrible for them in turn now.

"After that, the Queen appeared only there we thought dead, and exerted unknown powers over me to torture the codes out of me, after she reactivated the chip and sent me into utter dread," he continues unpityingly to their head-shaking and pale-faced dismay. "She touched me in ways you would describe as, rape, to comply and surrender the codes which I never did, and for that almost died again with my system nearly burning out in agony at my fighting her too potent forces. Which in human terms might be described as prolonged violent electroshock torture tearing me apart," he adds deliberately, with all just gasping up in horror feeling sick only thinking of such horror.

"Until she finally stopped on my desperate screaming and pleading, leaving me in agony and fear that my excessively tormented neural net would collapse me into final oblivion," he states as graphically shocking as possible, with all just looking as shocked as possible at that, even hardnosed Worf. Always forgetting, because Data is of cybernetic make he cannot ever be 'tortured' or 'die', when he has a living neural net that can be destroyed the very same in many agonising ways.

"Before that, they had grafted most of that skin on me while I was unconscious, after I had crashed right on my capture at the very start at too many Borg simply overpowering me, and I could not call for help on my combadge when my voice cut out for my system purging their nano probe attacks," he explains sharply. "They later then continued on my arm while I was aware and she tempted me with the live flesh and sensual pleasures I never knew, and could feel everything like any of you. At one point I managed to escape from that 'rack', but my renewed futile fighting them ended in more pain when they injured me on that arm, and she stopped me dead with her supernatural powers that could even raise forcefields."

"But I was finally unbound and under my own resolve, and by then she did not intent to torment me any further at no avail, tried to rather seduce me into surrender and showed me what they had done to me before, turning me into a Human and to feel like any Human," Data intones in an unwaveringly cold if slightly trembling voice. "That was the reason why her sadistic torture was so potent; I could feel it like any or you and went near insane in human terms. And when she realised I could never be cracked by sheer violence until dead, she asked me, if I was familiar with physical forms of, pleasure…"

His stunned audience having lost the horror plot long ago, now on the word 'pleasure', they suddenly wake up again, and can only imagine what happened next. And Data in no mood to spare them anything, will by all means enlighten them on that point just the same.

"I needed to stay with her to finally resume and implement our plan to rid us of the drones through the coolant, but I had no idea the ship was long lost," he continues more composed now, if still very short and resentfully intoned. "All I saw were more assimilated crew but none of you amongst them, and that no one gave me the slightest signal as to our status, to go ahead with our plan, or to retrieve me. _Nothing_. I was cut off and left in the complete dark, and all rested on my shoulders not to surrender the ship left entirely on my own."

"I tried my best to stay alive and did everything needed to achieve that, in erroneous belief of my duty to save the crew once I was free. So I did what I had to, and engaged with her in a more intimate form on my own free will over an extended period of time – Not as her tortured captive, but free man in aroused senses I never had experienced before in that form, and she paid me back with the gift of true physical sensations and sexual pleasures I had never believed possible," he states most candidly in utter defiance, and all can see that this has just turned much more complex suddenly than being just a captured torture victim case.

"She was more forthcoming than any of my fellow crew having deserted me, and I do not regret _one_ thing I did in Engineering or feel guilty or ashamed over _any_thing I had to experience," he declares rebelliously, having recaptured his true feelings again. "Except, that I had to suffer unspeakable torture and needed to kill her for _his_ obsessed and suppressed feelings, and I even was tempted to follow her offer to join them as her equal. Simply because I was left behind like the rest to get killed, when the Borg did nothing else than what we had; constantly trying to dominate or kill other species. Our crew were only assimilated because we had started to fight them, not them us, all they wanted at that point was to gain our technology. 'We' are no better than 'them'," Data declares more than outspokenly now.

"I was treated by the so-called enemy as appallingly and unspeakable as Humans do it even to their friends, but in contrast to them, or other 'races'," he adds in looking at Worf suddenly, who just grumbles at him getting the idea, "'she' changed her mind and made good on that fatal mistake and gave me the freedom to choose. Unlike our Captain, who would have let the autodestruct complete its cycle, after he came strolling in like the 'hero' on my need to call on him to end this entire madness. And then he told me to leave to exchange himself for me, when we all know that is just a captain's ploy and he would have destroyed me still along with himself, to eliminate all traces of his most unprofessional conduct to date," he suddenly charges him, to everyone's silent disbelief, either way.

With no one able to say anything to any of his so merciless and no doubt true words, understanding his biting criticism and direct accusations by all means, they have no idea what to do next anymore either. All just sitting there as if gone to hell themselves suddenly, Picard is feeling faint and looks very pale just staring at the table. Fearing that he just has lost his Second Officer, for his undoubtedly 'obsessed' and very unprofessional conduct, he finally raises his leaden head and eyes to engage his bitter words.

"I would not have let the autodestruct complete its cycle, Data," Picard says softly, his voice croaking with misery, all suddenly looking his way. "I truly wanted to exchange myself for you… I wanted to see you freed Data…"

"You shouted at me not to deactivate autodestruct, 'Sir"! Data suddenly yells back at him again. "How does that _not_ mean to let it complete!? You did not even look at me when you 'ordered' me to leave! And then what? I would have left you with her and tried to gain control of the ship again with all her Borg drones still active? They would have recaptured me again no doubt, unless she really meant me to be free to go. Which I highly doubt, not able to trust me in turn! She was not that 'naïve'! I could estimate her more than superior thoughts, and _that _they were definitely not! So for you then trying to execute our plan and destroy the plasma coolant tank to kill them with it, and take all the credit? How would _you_ have been able to achieve any of that, 'Sir'?" he suddenly mocks him now.

"You knew fair well that was impossible and that I had to stay, which I did defying your 'order'! While you would have let us perish, unless she had asked me to deactivate autodestruct without you ever appearing! And I surely would have obliged her in that too! But then you even thought I had betrayed you for my staying with her and you having become her prisoner for a change, believing I was intend on destroying the warp rocket on her command! When it was _you_ who had abandoned me and your entire crew long before I saved everyone again! And I will _never_ forgive you for _any_ of that! 'Sir'," he finally declares more than angrily, and in sure intent to end his career with him at any rate.

"I did not believe you had betrayed us, Data," Picard counters immediately. "I doubted you, yes, but only for what they had done to you, seeing you will all that human skin on your face and arm, where others had long succumbed to her otherwise. I thought she had fully subverted you. But I did not 'believe' it, and I did not abandon you. I _did_ come for you Data," Picard replies tiredly, in hope he can dissuade him from his set idea that he thought he had failed him such disastrously, if no doubt to some grave extent.

"I saw it in your eyes! You _did_ believe it!" Data shouts back promptly. "And you only did '_come for me'_, after _I_ had called on you ten horrid hours later trapped inside a regeneration alcove connected to the hive, after they had continued with that skin on that very face! I let all that happen to me for one, to enable myself to our plan, and two, because I truly desired that skin no matter where it came from as shocking as it was for me first! I was in paralysed horror to die again in agony and alone in stasis for your autodestruct call! No matter she might have asked me to deactivate it before that happened because she knew! Just like I had from the very moment I realised you had activated the silent command to send us all to hell! Including my _family_! Which might have been salvageable, plus my 'pet', when the others surely could gather theirs! 'Sir'! How dare you say you did _not _abandon me!? You would have wiped out our Soong legacy in one go!!"

"Data please," Picard says very plagued if still calmly, looking at his most furious sneering. "My head was a riot of hissing Borg voices and pain, I never even thought of Lal. All I hoped was that you were dead Data, quick and painless, spared anything I had suffered… before I heard you suddenly, and came back…"

Data knowing that Picard cannot actually say anything referring to Lore, since only Riker knows that he is kept in Data's quarters, he rather engages him on his last words.

"'Spared '_me_' anything _you_ had suffered'!? Data hollers at him now with another sneer, leaning into his field of very uneasy vision again. "Nothing '_you_' had experienced will ever come anywhere near _my _ordeal, 'Sir'! You would be _dead_! And _I _only suffered my deaths because of _your _obsession! Why do you not finally concede that you have utterly failed me and the crew as the one honourable thing!? I do understand '_why_', but you keep feeding _your_ emotional victim state by evading the fact that you acted incompetently! You are _still_ winding yourself from admitting that you failed all responsibility and neglected all protocol because of your 'issues'! Instead of finally seeing who exactly the victim is in this appalling disaster! Starfleet told you not to engage the Borg expecting you might falter! How dare you tell me you 'came back', making it sound as if you ever thought of trying to help me before I ever called you! You never even said how sorry you are! Or apologised over any of it! 'Sir'!!"

Everyone shocked enough at it stands, understanding Data's immense resentment and deeply hurtful reaction by all means, they can clearly see that their overwhelmed Captain has not only lost the battle with the Borg, but also himself to his unresolved 'issues' with them in a most disastrous form. Not one wanting to enter their very aggressive word battle now, it still however must be resolved between them otherwise, or Data is likely to leave even as he is; a shredded shell in and outside, if Picard were to react as the 'victim' any further now.

All hoping Data would not simply leave like that, Troi putting her hand lightly to Data's arm again, she tries her best to calm him again with a faint smile all innocently. But all he does however is pull back again, only seeing that she tries to undermine his utterly disillusioned words by leaving their disgraced Captain without even apologising right now to save his tainted reputation.

"Do not dare try quieten me Counsellor," he hisses at her now as she withdraws her hand with another soft apology. "You all wanted me to be 'more human', _that _is how I am and feel as a 'Human' right now; deeply wounded and betrayed, utterly used and abused! Take it or leave me!" he adds loudly in getting up sharply. "I will not stay if you do not even have the decency now to admit that you have utterly deserted me, 'Captain'!" he snarls at Picard in turn, meaning every bitter word.

Giving him a second to react to that shocking, if reasonable demand as everyone else is dead silent, Picard is near tears suddenly, fearing he will really just leave sitting there in white dread. But leaving it too long at his own choked voice failing him suddenly the same, with everyone just staring at him in disbelief he would not speak up, Data simply snatches for the red container, turns sharply and heads back into the bedroom for the en-suite.

_How dare he! How dare he not apologise! I will not stay like this, not ever! _

Data having to pass Picard however to get there, the Captain attempts to finger for Data's arm to stop him gently as he comes close enough. But Picard simply cannot raise a muscle or tone, and Data only hisses at him dangerously, for Picard to shrink back. As he stomps on and the bedroom door closes behind him, everyone is left in utter disbelief now that their Captain never even looked at Data.

Worf unexpectedly rising now himself, he looks at Picard's miserable visage and address him in a loud enough voice so that Data would hear him next door.

"It is very dishonourable not to concede to ones mistakes, no matter how grave, Sir," he suddenly states, clearly on Data's side from his own point of Klingon honour view. "Or at least apologise over them, Captain."

All looking at a resolute Worf, seeing his 'sharp point' for sure, La Forge gets up too now sitting next to him, and then addresses his silent Captain the same with a very disappointed and unusually serious voice.

"I can recreate the temporal vortex to get us back to our time, Captain. But, unless you act contrite towards Data right now, I won't, and we will be stuck here for all eternity," La Forge threatens them all in fact now. "This ship may not even exist as it is, and can go to the same hell Data just came from for all I care," he adds most ingenuously. "We don't belong in this timeframe, but I will not stay on board either if you won't apologise, Captain."

The others gazing at him rather surprised now, but certainly understanding and even welcoming his own way of expressing his deep resentment over Picard's incomprehensible silence, Riker gets up slowly the same, with Troi and Crusher following suit and an icy expression directed at their mute Captain.

Picard of course seeing it as a united stand against him in favour of Data, he is deeply relieved they would do that in fact, knowing he has messed up big time, but simply cannot find his words to declare his grave failure. That of course more in shame and deep-rooted pain, rather than blindness or feeling to be the victim in this horrid drama.

"It is of no dishonour however, to feel ashamed or be shamed over ones mistakes or human flaws, Jean-Luc," Riker says sympathetically intoned, to show him they can understand his great dilemma as captain, not to concede to his professional insufficiencies besides. "But there's no need to hide behind that hard captain's façade amongst _us_, we're your friends too. But we cannot allow you to let your bruised ego and hurting feelings desert Data even more after the hell he has endured, because of your own Borg issues having blinded your professional judgements and actions, we wrongly thought had been buried along with them in your mind. _He _is the even greater victim this time, not _you_. With all due respect, Sir."

"I know Will! I know!" Picard suddenly sobs up, having finally found his voice again over the lost battle to hide his deeply affected feelings overwhelming him again, just like in the corridor they never even saw either. "But I could not speak! I simply could not speak! I wanted to say how terribly sorry I am… I wanted to tell him! I wanted to hold him back… I was too overwhelmed! I was paralysed with the horror he had endured only thinking of my own again, utterly paling now, and then his bitter words were choking me… I simply could not… I could not…"

Picard finally breaking down for good, Crusher slides along the sofa to get to him as he buries his pained face in his trembling hands utterly devastated now. With Spot making way for her, she sits by him and takes him into her arms, he allows, finally surrendering to his frayed emotions without feeling ashamed.

The silent crew suddenly having two very emotional officers on the brink of a nervous breakdown, they have not even seen the total scope of the many dead on board they would need to gather, and find many of their own butchered crew amongst them. Whom they had known and worked with alongside. All for a captain who could not face his own past ordeal as Data had; face on and dealing with it right there and then to cope and move on – as usual.

La Forge resolutely going over to the bedroom door now, he knocks on it several times and calls out Data's name, saying it is Geordi, and to let him inside. Data having heard every single word at any rate, he is standing before the bathroom mirror again, bootless and more than naked, looking at his still violated shell having removed the torn uniform into the processor. Another disgraceful Starfleet uniform gone. Taking a big heave, turning to press the release button for the door on the small keyboard with the black-on-blue delta logo, it opens slowly.

All looking over, with even Picard peering back from under his hands, Crusher leaves him for the moment. With the open en-suite lying in direct line with the bedroom, their horrified views fall on Data's equally stripped backside. La Forge shaking his head again in sheer disbelief his system had survived any of it, feeling sick, he turns inside and closes the bedroom door again to enter the en-suite.

Looking at Data's sad reflection in the mirror standing behind him now, he puts his left hand gently to his shoulder. Feeling merely the cold and sleek cybernetic metal alloy composite unlike the soft and natural bioplast skin before, Data cannot even sense his touch anymore, as only see his hand there suddenly. Dropping his head, his chin and lips curl into more agony again.

"Looks like we have to get you some new bioplast skin again, Data," La Forge says softly while removing his hand, not even aware he might not feel him at all anymore, realising however how deeply upset he is about his dreadful state. "How are you feeling now my friend, hm?"

La Forge seeing the new russet undershirt put by the fresh jumpsuit on the commode already next to the red container, he steps by his side and fetches for it, to hold it to Data's one, very tearful eye.

"I feel, dead, Geordi," Data replies with a heartbreaking sob. "One kilogram and twelve grams…" he weeps up some more in taking it from his hand. "My entire bioplast amount is one thousands and three hundred grams. It is very light, and I have lost over four fifth of the entire two and a half square metres of it," he states slightly lesser affected, just to say something not to cry instead.

"What? No exact specifics?" La Forge fibs to loosen him up, which utterly fails as Data only weeps up some more.

"I can not process any sensory input any longer Geordi," he adds, still very depressed putting on the shirt. "My physical sensations are all dead too. I can not feel anything anymore. It will be very difficult to reconnect all the sixty-point facial motion processor units to generate any expressions again. And I will need to replicate a new optical implant to see properly again… this one-eyed vision is very disorienting…"

"I know Data, don't worry about it. I'm gonna do my best to replace your skin as we did after that Barkon IV disaster when it was nearly that badly damaged. Now it's entirely gone, which would make the new applications even easier. Don't worry about it, ok?" he reassures him with a smile fetching for the jumpsuit. "I'm gonna replicate the right amount once we're back in our time, and get you a new golden eye. I'm gonna make you look handsome again, ok?"

Saying that in hope that he would still be with him by then, trying to lift the gloomy mood, the fact that Data has told him how much he would require, might point to a more inclined yes, than no.

"All right Geordi," Data replies meekly with another pitiful sigh, catching his tearful sobbing in taking the uniform from his hand to put it on.

"You're gonna stay with us, aren't you?" he asks him directly now, with Data only looking at him not too sure in fact, getting his boots to slip them on again. "Please, Data… for me? I'm your friend, and I don't wanna lose you._ None_ of us want to lose you."

"Only if the Captain will make an apology and acknowledges his serious mistakes – He let me down gravely, and for once in my life I simply needed to speak my mind," Data replies bluntly in renewed defiance. "I am positive once we are back in our time, Starfleet will give _me_ a hard time at any rate; the 'android officer', but not ever the Human in command," he adds bitterly, fearing already an investigation that will try to put the blame on him, rather than Picard. "I have seen it often enough – why else would _I_ never have been promoted… but everyone else."

"I know, Data, I know. But if that's gonna happen we will stop it outright," La Forge counters with a sincere smile. "Not to worry, we're all gonna stand behind you Data. You did nothing wrong and you had no other choice. _You_ alone saved the Federation and Starfleet as it is, I'm sure they'll give you another medal for it. I cannot _ever_ imagine how you survived any of it…"

"I did not 'survive any of it', Geordi, I 'died' it," Data declares categorically, with La Forge nodding at his serious 'expression', patting him on the shoulder again.

"I know Data. I'm just glad you made it in one piece, and halfway sane…" La Forge replies in fingering for Data's combadge and pips.

Not sure about the 'sane' part, Data is still in a great deal of pain and silent anger. La Forge holding up the combadge and insignias to his one golden eye, Data peers at them still not sure to stay. But then he nods once at La Forge's blue-black eyes entreating him, and takes the three pips from his palm to pin them on again. La Forge attaching his combadge, they both turn to the door to leave.

As they enter the lounge again, the others are still there, sitting again and looking back at them. All registering in great relief that Data is wearing his officer rank pips and combadge again, Picard gets up at once now to step into his way timidly but resolutely, hoping that La Forge could dissuade him from leaving.

"Data, please accept my sincerest apologies now, please?" he says firmly, looking at him straight before Data can utter another resentful syllable. "I couldn't speak before, I was too shocked. Please forgive me, I admit my serious mistakes unreservedly. I deeply regret what I did, or rather what I did not. I wasn't myself at all," he admits shamefacedly in addition. "Please Data, I don't want you to leave, please stay. I need you, we_ all_ need you Data …"

Of course you all 'need me', Data thinks to himself, otherwise you would all be dead long ago, only raising his one left brow at him, looking at his genuine fear and regret visibly marked in Picard's pale face that he would just leave them. Still however not having even thanked him for saving everyone again or himself, and Data giving him another second to think of that perhaps, Picard seems to gather his merciless silence to mean just that.

"I'm so very grateful you held on for so long and to have saved the ship and crew, where I let you all down," he finally confesses humbly. "And myself from sure destruction Data… I thank you with all my own bionic heart for having been as efficient as ever to help us again, please forgive me. You were right with every word you threw at me, please stay Data…" he begs him now, eagerly searching his one eye for affirmation.

Almost sounding too enthusiastic, ending it with even more self-recriminations he no doubt deserves, Data only sighs at him not really wanting to leave anymore, for La Forge's sake most of all.

"I do no have a 'bionic heart', Captain," Data replies stubbornly, still speaking his own frayed mind. "And when I said, 'to hell with our orders', I did not mean to end up there in factual terms."

Data passing him before the Captain can actually reply anything to that, just falling apart over his brusque retort, Picard swiftly turns to follow him with a frowning La Forge on his heels.

"Data please," he begs him again, with Data simply heading to the main doors. "Data…"

Data stopping by the doors for them to open automatically, he posts himself by the side looking at them unmoved. All just gaping back at him not sure why, it seems they are being shown the door in literal terms now.

With Picard and La Forge closest, the Captain not certain what to say now, taking it as a kick out the doors, they all start moving towards the entrance slowly not wanting to impose themselves any further, seeing that Data is not yet ready to forgive him or in need or want to talk to any further extent. But when Picard wants to pass him while the others gather in the lounge behind him, Data addresses him suddenly again.

"I believe we have to deal with a few dozen 'Borg' corpses and need to recall the remaining crew to debrief them, Captain," he says as dispassionately as ever, yet with a teasing undertone.

All seeing that not only to be a dreadful prospect, but that Data seems to stay after all to help with that, they single-file out the door with a relieved smile.

"I believe so too, Commander. Thank you Data," Picard replies with a grateful and respectful smile, patting him on his shoulder to leave after them, no matter Data still cannot feel his touch following him outside with a sharp nod.

As the doors close after him, it seems they both have come to an unspoken understanding. For the fact is, that in words, Data has not forgiven his Captain. If ever he shall.

Back on the finally recovered bridge after having dealt with the ugly fallout for some days now, everyone of the core crew is assembled, a uniformed Picard enters with a lighter step, and heading straight on says, "Report," to Worf standing by one of the stations along with another officer.

The 'on-loan' Klingon moving over to his 'own' Tactical post, Worf replies, "The moon's gravitational field obscured our warp signature; the Vulcans did not detect us."

With an again equally uniformed La Forge right there and ever ready, he briefs Picard on further more pleasing developments, as they both move along the busy stations, and adds, "Captain – we reconfigured our warp field to match the chronometric readings of the Borg sphere."

Picard nodding at him pleased with the words, "Recreate the vortex, Commander," his First Officer there appears, and La Forge replies with a mere, "Aye Sir," with Riker adding, "All decks report ready."

Picard taking his chair with his Second Officer apparently still amongst the actively serving crew the same, Data still not 'fixed' beyond his obvious metal nature still all gleaming cybernetics flashing on his face, he reports in turning to him, "Helm standing by."

"Mr Data, lay in a course for the 24th century – I suspect our future is there waiting for us…" Picard replies friendly intoned, looking at him with a grateful smile and much more hopeful expression.

Data replying, "Course laid in, Sir," Picard sits himself in his centre chair with Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi at his usual sides, while everyone gazes upon their superior.

Picard smiling once more in raising his right index finger to conduct them on to their more promising way home, he delivers his famous catch phrase, "Make it so," with the good Doctor posting herself at another station close by, and everyone is ready to finally depart to return to their own once lost and again found lives.

At no one's guessing the greatly revelatory and most merciless, personal altercation having taken place between the 'only human' Captain and his all the more unique and superior Second Officer. Which simply must remain their most delicate secret for now after a more public display already. To send them on their never-ending journey to attain more professional aptitude in growing inner developments, of not only their now even closer understanding of the other's inherent nature, but individual characters and different needs.

Which all one day might bind them together beyond their professional relation for a future assignment perhaps, where they need to rely on the other's deeper, more perceptive and appreciative sympathy and understanding of their inner truths. To retain the friend from harm in the face of possible grave danger unlike before, and never reach near fatal results again. Hopefully.

THE END

Copyright 1997 – Reedited 2008

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